


we belong to you and me

by lotts (LottieAnna), theundiagnosable



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fake Marriage, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Podfic, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Length: 3.5-4 Hours, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-01-16 18:12:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12347919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/pseuds/lotts, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theundiagnosable/pseuds/theundiagnosable
Summary: “You’re not allowed to take the high ground while proposing we defraud your government, Marns.”“Not with that attitude,” Mitch says. “Look, I’m not proposing we defraud anyone, I’m just-”“Proposing?” Auston finishes, wry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> IF YOU FOUND THIS THROUGH GOOGLING, KNOW ANYONE MENTIONED IN THIS STORY PERSONALLY, OR ARE MENTIONED YOURSELF: please, please click away. This is a work of fiction and nothing written in this story is true. Any accurate information used in this story is publicly available information about public figures, the rest is made up, 100%
> 
>  **origin story:**  
>  lotts: [college au](http://hatingongodot.tumblr.com/post/143186606415)  
> ciara: let's do it
> 
> ...and now, here we are. hope you're not looking for an accurate depiction of financial aid applications or marital law.
> 
> title from the Bee Gees

Mitch shows up outside Auston’s window, which is a more common occurrence than it really should be, considering that it’s almost two AM and Auston lives on the second floor.

He kind of jumps, startled, when Marns raps on the glass. “What the–”

Mitch just grins, gives this jaunty little wave then gestures at the lock. Auston considers letting him wait outside – serves him right, climbing shit like he’s a kid, someday the neighbours are going to call the police – but he puts down his stats textbook and makes the trek over to the window, heaving it up with a sigh.

“You could just use the door,” Auston says, and Mitch rolls his eyes. He’s balanced half in the big maple, half on the little ledge, like both of those are perfectly normal places to be, right now.

“You know I wasn’t joking, right?”

Auston narrows his eyes. “About?”

“Getting married,” Mitch says. “Let your fiancé in, please.”

“We’re not fiancés,” Auston says automatically, ‘cause this is out there, even for Marns, but he steps back and pulls aside the curtain so Marns can tumble in less-than-gracefully. “How come you’re ordained?”

Mitch peels himself off the floor and waves a hand all dismissive, like the fact that he’s a literal minister isn’t a big deal. “Davo and Dyls had this weird commitment thing after high school, it’s whatever.”

Auston shuts his window instead of responding to that, turns around and just watches Mitch fling himself onto his bed without even taking off his shoes. It sends Auston’s highlighters clattering to the ground, his textbook wobbling dangerously. So much for his notes.

Marns has got his hands crossed behind his head, looking over at Auston, expectant. “So,” he says, “when d’you want to get married?”

And–

He’s not joking.

“You’re insane,” Auston says. “That wasn’t – it was a stupid midnight conversation because I was on my fifth cup of coffee. Like – really stupid.”

Mitch doesn’t look phased. “It’s not, though, dude, is the thing. It actually makes sense? Like, financially, and for our futures, and–”

Auston shakes his head, firm. “You’re not allowed to take the high ground while proposing we defraud your government, Marns.”

“Not with that attitude,” Mitch says, automatic. “Look, I’m not proposing we _defraud_ anyone, I’m just–”

“Proposing?” Auston finishes, wry, and Mitch makes a face, and this is just the strangest conversation they’ve ever had, ever. He really shouldn’t have had that fifth cup of coffee.

“ _You_ asked,” Mitch points out. “This was your idea, technically.”

Auston kind of frowns, because– “I mean, okay, but–” He cuts himself off, then, because they’re sitting around discussing this like it’s an actual option, which it isn’t, at all, ever. He’s not that dumb.

He shoves Mitch’s legs off the bed to make room, sitting down next to him to try and make him see sense. “Mitch. We can’t actually get _married_.”

Mitch swings his legs back up into Auston’s lap without hesitating. “Why not?”

Auston flounders. “I – you’re straight, for one thing.”

Mitch shrugs, stealing one of Auston’s pillows and hugging it like a teddy bear. Auston Does Not Think the word ‘adorable’. “Government doesn’t know that.”

“It’s illegal to lie on your aid application, Marns, how about that?”  

“Aus,” Mitch says, and that’s about when Auston knows he’s lost, because Marns only calls him ‘Aus’ when he’s trying to sweet talk him into doing something that’s going to get them banned from a shopping mall or on Auston’s roommates’ shit lists or, in this case, in literal fucking jail for fraud. “Listen. You always say how bad you feel, your parents working overtime to send you here. And, don’t know if you’ve noticed, but teaching kids to skate isn’t exactly lucrative.” He pokes at Auston’s stomach, gentle, with the toe of his sneaker. “This could fix, like, everything. You could start paying off the international student fees. Your mom could drop a job.”

And it’s – Auston doesn’t know if he can blame it on the mom thing, or on Marns lying there in his bed, hair splayed out under him, but he wavers, just for a second.

Mitch picks up on it, because of course he does. “We could buy food,” he says, enthusiastic. “Real food, that I didn’t steal from my parents’ house during reading week.”   

Auston scratches at the knee of Mitch’s jeans, avoids his gaze. “Food.”

“Yeah, like, an entire ice cream cake,” Mitch promises. “Or those giant burgers from Fran’s. Or brunch from the place by the park, aw, _Matty_ –”

“You’re not fair,” Auston says, because Mitch knows how much he loves that fucking brunch, and how much he hates being in debt, and he’s already beaming up like he knows he won.   

“I’m your best friend,” he says, “and we’re graduating in a few months, and this is our last chance to pull off something incredible. You gotta say yes.”   

This is the worst idea _ever_.

Auston rubs at his temples. “Fine, what the fuck, sure. Let’s do it.”

Mitch pumps his fist, victorious. “Dude, our marriage is gonna be lit.” He looks so fucking excited, like getting bro-married to Auston is all he’s ever wanted, and it’s, like, a lot for Auston to handle, especially with a problem set due in six hours.

“Great, you can plan your dream wedding, or whatever. I have work to do,” Auston says.

“Love you too, babe,” Mitch says, blowing a kiss at him, and Auston rolls his eyes, then turns so Mitch doesn’t get the satisfaction of seeing him smile.

* * *

Auston wakes up the next morning – or, the next afternoon, technically – with that weird I-didn’t-sleep-enough taste in his mouth and a $15 Venmo request from Mitch for “marriage license ”

He blinks at it, because Mitch’s Venmo messages are usually weird and emoji-filled, but they didn’t go out to dinner last night, and Auston can’t think of anything else he might owe Mitch money for. Figuring it’ll come to him later, he puts down his phone and rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands.

He’s still recovering from a two day non-stop work bender, and definitely didn’t get enough sleep last night either, so he’s not awake enough to process the fact that there’s rustling outside his door, and doesn’t react at all when it opens and he hears the thump of a backpack dropping, and Mitch’s voice saying, “Are you awake?”

“No,” Auston replies. “Did I sleep through class?”

“Yeah, but don’t sweat it, you’re good,” Mitch says.

“What does that mean?” Auston asks,  

“I handed in your homework,” Mitch says, sitting on the bed. “And I was gonna sit there and, like, copy stuff down, but my notes were crap, so I just got them from the person next to me.”

“You–” Austons says, sitting up. “That’s, uh, really nice of you. Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” Mitch says. “Oh, that coffee’s for you, by the way,” he adds, nodding in the direction of the nightstand, and Auston turns his head to see that there is, in fact, a cup of Starbucks within arms reach.

He grabs it and takes a sip quickly, because he’s really fucking tired, and is surprised to taste something other than lukewarm black coffee. “Did you get me pumpkin spice?”

“Yep,” Mitch says, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

“What the fuck,” Auston says, looking at the cup of coffee in his hands.

“You can’t lie to me, Matty, I know they’re your favorite,” Mitch says.

They are, but both of them know Auston will never admit that out loud. “Why did you get me a $5 drink?”

“I mean, figured I could splurge on nice coffee as an engagement gift,” Mitch says, still smiling.

Auston stares at him for a few seconds, then nods slowly, and he’s about to take another sip when Mitch’s words sink in.

“Wait,” Auston says, straightening up so fast he almost spills his coffee. “What did you just say?”

“An engagement gift,” Mitch says, casual. “Y’know, I’ve gotta say, I’m pretty much killing it at the whole fiancé thing. You should step up your game.”

“What are you–” Auston starts, and then he literally pinches himself, because this is a dream he definitely should not be having about Mitch.

“The financial aid thing, man,” Mitch says, and all at once, Auston remembers: too much caffeine, weird google searches, Mitch appearing at his window, smiling, the promise of brunch and not being in debt, Mitch sleeping in his bed as Auston powered through the last chunk of problems.

They actually agreed to get married.

Or, like, to get fake-married, for platonic, financial reasons. It’s a weird fucking plan, but it’s an Auston-and-Mitch kind of weird plan, and not, like, Auston being tired enough to say something that would fuck up their friendship.

“Oh,” he says, “right. That.”

“Yeah, I’m calling it ‘Operation: Auston and Mitch get hitched.’ What do you think?” Mitch asks.

Auston gives Mitch a look. “I love it,” he deadpans. “Put it on the invitations.”

“I’ll tell the wedding planner,” Mitch replies, easy. “Anyway, dude, for real, we need to fill out the marriage license thing.”

“Dude,” Auston says, throwing his legs over the side of the bed, so they’re sitting next to each other, their sides pressed together. “Are we actually doing this? For real?”

“I mean, yeah,” Mitch says. “If you haven’t changed your mind. I’m serious, man.”

He sounds genuine, and when Auston turns his head, he can see that Mitch looks genuine, too. And, like, it’s not like Mitch is never serious about shit, but Auston’s never been able to get used to the way Mitch looks when he needs you to know he means something.

“I–” Auston starts, but then he bites his lip. “We’d be, like, _married._ You realize that, right?”

“Yep,” Mitch says.  

“We’ll have to get divorced,” Auston says. “Like, we’ll be divorced people, afterward. We’ll never be bachelors again.”

“Yeah, and I’ll have an awesome ex-husband, who’ll still be my best friend,” Mitch says.

“I’m just saying,” Auston says, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not nothing, y’know?”

“I know,” Mitch says, and then he grabs Auston’s hand and squeezes it. “But I’m in, man. I promise.”

“Alright,” Auston says. “If you’re sure.”

“Dude, I am so sure, I’m–” Mitch gets up off the bed, then kneels in front of Auston, grabbing his hand.

It takes Auston a second to realize what’s happening, but when he does, he snorts. “This is ridiculous,” he says, trying not to smile.

“Auston Matthews,” Mitch says, “you are the best homie I could ever ask for–”

“I hate this, and I hate you,” Auston says.

“–even when you lie, right to my face, and say you hate me,” he continues. “But, I promise that I’ll be the best fake husband you’ve ever listed on a financial aid application, and that we will continue to push the limits of our bromance every day.”

“Did you _rehearse_ this?”

“Yes, so quit interrupting,” Mitch says. “Anyway. Auston, you’re the chillest dude I’ve ever met, so will you agree to be my fake husband? Like, preferably soon, so we can fill out the marriage license application and drop it off at city hall by the end of the day.”

Auston rolls his eyes, but the corners of his mouth are definitely turned up, now. “I already said yes.”

“Okay, but I’m trying to get you hype about this,” Mitch says. “Like, we’re gonna save so much money, or whatever, but like – I love you, y’know? A friendship for the ages, ride or die bros, til death do us part.”

“Okay, fine,” Auston says, smiling and looking at the ceiling, “Yes, I’ll fake-marry you, let’s fill out those forms.”

“He said yes!” Mitch cheers, then tackle-hugs Auston onto his bed, both of them laughing.

“And you didn’t even give me a ring,” Auston says, his voice muffled by the fabric of Mitch’s shirt.

Mitch gets up, but he’s still straddling Auston as he says, “You want a ring? I’ll get you one.”

His face is flushed from laughing, and Auston looks away quickly before he starts to think about anything that’s too not-bros about Mitch, because that might make the whole marriage thing awkward. “You’d get me a Ring Pop,” he says.

“Whoa, rude,” Mitch says.

“Am I wrong?” Auston asks, raising an eyebrow.

Mitch rolls his eyes, and gets up off of Auston – which, like, is kinda sad, but mostly a relief – and then he makes his way over to his backpack.

“Like, no,” Mitch says, and he pulls a sheet of paper out of his bag, then grabs something from the bottom and tosses it to Auston, who catches it reflexively and sees that it is, in fact, a Ring Pop.

“Wow, I can’t tell if I know you too well, or you’re just that predictable,” Auston says, smirking.

“Yeah, yeah.” Mitch says. “But if I’m the guy who buys engagement Ring Pops, you’re the guy who’s marrying me, so what does that make you?”

“A guy with a Ring Pop, clearly,” Auston says.

“Fair point,” Mitch concedes, and then he hands the sheet of paper over to Auston. “Alright, well, you should fill out the rest of this. Then Operation: Auston and Mitch get hitched will officially be a go.”

“Jeez, you already started it?” Auston says, staring at where Mitch’s half of the form – the application for a _marriage license,_ jesus fucking christ – is all filled out.  

“I had a productive morning,” Mitch says, shrugging.

Auston stares at Mitch for a second, but his face is kind of inscrutable, so Auston just says, “You go hard for fake marriage,” then grabs a pen, because this is his life now, apparently.

“Only for you,” Mitch says simply, and he puts his head on Auston’s shoulder as Auston writes his name on the top of the sheet, right across from Mitch’s.

* * *

A few hours later, they’re sitting on a bench in city hall, Auston’s arm around Mitch’s shoulders as they wait to drop off the application, when Mitch turns to him and says, out of the blue, “I’ll buy you a real ring, you know.”

“What?”

“If you want,” Mitch says. “Not just a Ring Pop. Like, a real engagement ring.”

“Oh,” Auston says “Uh, I mean – we’re gonna be married, soon enough, right? So we’ll just have wedding bands at the ceremony?”  

“Huh,” Mitch says, furrowing his brow. “Wow, yeah. I guess so.”

Auston waits for Mitch to relax, but he doesn’t, so after a beat, Auston asks, “Everything good, man?”

“Just thinking,” Mitch says.

“Cold feet?” Auston asks.

Mitch purses his lips. “Nah,” he says, and then he looks up at Auston, his eyes bright and sure. “You?”

“Nope,” Auston says. “We’re gonna be good.”

“Duh,” Mitch says, and Auston smiles.

* * *

No one is surprised that they’re getting married, is the thing, and Auston doesn’t know what to do with that.

Willy’s in the living room when they get home from class a couple days later, sorting out a basket of laundry. He looks up when they come through the door. “Hey,” he says, and flings a balled-up pair of socks at Auston’s head. “Forgot these in the dryer.”

“Thanks.” Auston dumps the socks and his bag by the stairs, squeezes past Willy and his laundry to collapse into the old armchair. Marns flops down after him so he’s half on top of him, elbow digging into Auston’s ribcage. Auston doesn’t bother moving him, just kind of nudges at him to start talking. He’s feeling – not nervous, exactly. Just. It’s a big deal.

Still. They’ve been planning this since they dropped off the application, how to tell people. They’re going to be chill about it.

“We have news,” Mitch announces, sing-song, like they’re at a press conference instead of in the living room, because he’s never been chill a single day in his life.

Willy raises an eyebrow, folds another pair of his tiny shorts. “Is Mitch gonna finally admit he lives here and start paying rent?”

Mitch ignores that one, very dignified. “So,” he says, looping an arm around Auston’s neck and kind of absently toying with the hood of his sweater. “Remember how we’re all doomed to a life of crushing debt and being cogs in the corporate-academic machine and there’s no way to escape the hellish misery of indebted servitude in fields unrelated to our degrees until we die?”

“Yep,” Willy says, still mostly focused on folding.

Marns makes a noise like the buzzer on a gameshow, loud right in Auston’s ear, and dodges when Auston swats at him half-heartedly. “Incorrect, my favourite roommate-in-law.”

Will just looks confused, at that, so Auston decides to cut to the chase. “Wanna be a witness at our wedding?”

“‘kay,” Willy responds, mostly automatically, it sounds like. Auston waits. It’s like he can actually see the pieces clicking together in Will’s head, the moment when it registers and he blinks, hard. “Hang on, your what?”

“Surprise,” Mitch says, downright gleeful, and Auston can’t help but smile at the look on his face, and then at the look on Will’s as he looks between the two of them.

“Guys,” he says, slow. “Guys!” All at once he launches himself across the room to hug them, which means that Auston ends up suffocating under, like, a million pounds of overly affectionate bros. The armchair creaks warningly. “That’s so great, holy shit!”

“Get off,” Auston laughs, but Marns is giggling while Willy messes with his hair, pressed all close to Auston’s everything. It’s hard to pretend to be mad.

“Told you he’d be psyched, Matts.”

“This is a _one person chair_ ,” Auston says, but he’s still grinning and so’s Willy as he untangles himself from their pile and perches on the edge of the coffee table, laundry forgotten.

“Okay,” he says, excited. “Okay, I look best in blue and/or pastels, so maybe consider that when you’re planning colour schemes – and oh, shit, Mitchy, you’ve got to invite the _entire_ drama department to the bachelor party, we’re going to get _so_ trashed–”

“Bachelor party?” Mitch says, perking up, which shouldn’t even be possible at this point. He looks thrilled at the idea, and okay. Usually Auston’d let the two of them do their thing, ‘cause he’s only human and Marns’ excited smile is, like, the human equivalent of a corgi puppy minus the weird stubby legs; except colour schemes and bachelor parties are shit that goes on at actual weddings, not whatever they’re doing, and that’s – it’s important, Auston thinks. The distinction.

“Hold on,” he says. “Hold on, just – Willy, you know this isn’t real, right? Or, like–” He catches himself. “It’ll be real, like, legally, but. Scamming-OSAP-real, not we’re-in-love-real.”

“He knows, dude,” Marns says, dismissive, but Willy looks entirely confused.

“What do you mean, not real?”

“Will,” Auston says. “We’re barely adults, man, we couldn’t – it’d be dumb to actually get married.”  

“Yeah, but you’ve been together forever, it’s–”

“What?” Mitch says, and he laughs, all surprised. “Dude, no.” He looks at Auston like, _can you believe this_ , like the idea of them dating is the most hilarious thing he’s ever heard. Auston’s stomach does something complicated, but he shrugs back at Marns, _who knows, man_ , and Willy points at them like they just proved his point.  

“That – you just did your fucking – your secret boyfriends language, you’re clearly dating.”

“Except for we’re not,” Mitch says, bemused. “Have you thought that this whole time, man, what the fuck?”  

“You’re fucking with me,” Willy says, incredulous. “You’re – guys.”

“We’re not dating,” Auston insists, and he maybe sounds more serious than he intends, because Marns looks over at him, kind of curious. It almost looks like he’s about to say something – which, _shit_ – but he doesn’t get a chance because–

“No, man, you’re thinking of _1989_ , it’s – it’s clearly better.”

They all look up at the sound of the front door opening, Brownie and Zach’s voices floating in from the front hall, the thuds of them kicking off their shoes.

Zach scoffs. “If you think _1989_ is better than _Red_ , I don’t even know what to say to you.”

Auston cranes his neck to peer over the back of his chair while the two of them walk in, relieved at the distraction. “Hey, guys.”

“Oh,” Brownie says, “everyone’s here, awesome. Tell Zachy _1989_ is the best Taylor Swift album.”  

“It’s not _cohesive_ ,” Zach says, pained, and Marns shifts in Auston’s lap so he can look over at them, thoughtful.

“I feel like you guys aren’t giving _Speak Now_ the consideration it deserves,” he says, and looks like he’s going to go on a full on Mitch-rant, but Willy interrupts, still looking put-out.

“Everyone shut up,” he says, “Matts and Mitch’re getting married.” He says it like he’s dropping some huge bombshell, and Auston sort of feels like it’s some huge bombshell, and neither of those things explains why neither of the guys shows any kind of surprise whatsoever.

“Oh,” Zach says, and he kind of blinks, but then he’s smiling all sincere. “Hey, congrats. I’m really happy for you guys.”   

“Cute,” Brownie agrees, and Willy shakes his head, triumphant.

“No, see, that’s what I said, but they’re saying they’re not boyfriends?”

“Technically, we’re fiancés,” Mitch points out helpfully, and Auston pinches his side, hard, because he’s really not helping, here. “ _Ow_.”

Brownie’s looking at them, kind of skeptical. “Like,” he says. “Ever?”

Willy nods. “Bullshit, right?”

“Oh, for sure,” Zach nods, but hastens to add, “We respect your privacy or whatever, though, right, boys?”

“Sure,” Brownie says, while Willy shakes his head emphatically, “No!”

Auston glares at Willy, ignores the face he gets in return. “This is – you’re all ridiculous, this is a business arrangement, technically. Why does everyone think we’re together?”

He gets back three identical pointed stares, which–

Okay, yes, to be fair, he and Marns are very much sitting in the same chair, mostly on top of each other; and yes, Mitch is currently playing with the drawstrings on Auston’s hoodie, but – That’s just them. Or – it’s Mitch, and Auston goes along with it because that’s just how they are. It’s friend stuff.

“Shut up,” he says, instead of trying to explain any of that. He knows he’s probably blushing, can’t even pinpoint why, exactly. Everything’s a lot, suddenly.

“Man, whatever,” Mitch says, and his tone is still light, but he’s got a hand on Auston’s knee, reassuring without really thinking about it. He doesn’t look troubled by the guys assuming they’re together, nothing even close to uncomfortable, even though he definitely notices Auston blushing. “Your roomies are weird.”

“Yeah,” Auston says, a second too late. “Weird.”

* * *

It’s not like he’s pining.   

Not like he’s in denial about anything, either. He loves Mitch. He doesn’t love anyone like he loves Mitch, and Mitch knows that, even if Auston doesn’t really say it. Mitch loves him back, is the best part, and that’s – they just get each other, simple, and that’s how it is, how it’s always going to be, probably, and all of that’s completely separate from the fact that Auston sometimes thinks about kissing him.  

It’s not weird. Marns is an attractive guy, like, objectively speaking. It’d be weirder if Auston _hadn’t_ thought about kissing him.

Doesn’t matter. Auston’s not dumb enough to go after his straight best friend. He’d – god, he’d never. Not worth risking things with Marns, ‘cause nothing’d be worth that, not even close, and he’s not even sure where they’re going to end up next year, anyways, if they’re even going to be in the same country.

So he’s not pining, see, because that just–

It wouldn’t make sense.

* * *

They’re not planning a real wedding, so it’s not like they have to worry about things like seating arrangements, or flowers, or whatever, but Auston does feel bad that Mitch has done, like, most of the work so far, because the most bare-bones wedding possible still requires a shitton of paperwork and, like, dealing with bureaucracy, and that’s annoying as fuck. Plus, this whole thing started to get Auston out of debt, and he feels rude, and almost restless, sitting back and letting Mitch run around and take care of everything, even if Mitch insists that he doesn’t mind.

So maybe it’s Auston that minds. Whatever. The point is, Auston wants to contribute, so he figures he can take care of the rings, because they’ll need those for the ceremony, and, anyway, he’s walked past the same jewelry store, like, four times, and has thought about going in every time, so this time, he just. Does.

Well, he waits outside for ten minutes first, his hands stuffed in his pockets, wondering if he should call Mitch, but he really wants to do this, like, now, and he doesn’t want to make Mitch drop whatever he’s doing to meet him at a jewelry store. Or, like, even if Auston doesn’t _make_ him, he knows that Mitch will show up if Auston asks him to, and that kind of defeats the purpose.  

So, he takes a deep breath and walks into the store, wincing at the jingling sound the door makes as he opens it.

The store is empty, save for a man standing behind a display case who asks, “Can I help you?”

“Hi,” Auston says. “I’m, uh. Do you have rings?” Which is a dumb question, because this is a jewelry store, and he’s been eyeing the rings in the window ever since this whole marriage plan started.

“What kind of ring were you looking for?”  

“A wedding ring?”

“Alright,” the man says. “Did you have any idea of what you were looking for?”

“Uh,” Auston says. “Just – something simple, I think? And, uh, not expensive?”

“Were you hoping for a particular cut? Any styles in mind?”

“No, just, like, a plain circle, I guess,” Auston says. He has a feeling that the guy is judging him, and, honestly, Auston would understand, but the guy just nods politely and shows him several silver rings.

They’re – they look like rings. Auston doesn’t know. They’re all nice, he guesses, but he gets the feeling he’s supposed to be looking for something in particular, and he’s got no clue where to start.

He probably shouldn’t be surprised that this is more complicated than he’d expect it to be, because he’s accepted the fact that he’s in way over his head when it comes to marriage stuff, but it doesn’t feel like there should be this many varieties of the same thing. Like, he can’t imagine why someone would care whether their ring is rounder, or shinier, or thicker, or whatever, but he’s having a hard time choosing between them, so he can’t really judge.

“Uh,” Auston says, “can I, like, take a picture?”

“Certainly,” the guy says, and Auston takes some solace in the fact that that’s apparently a normal thing to do, so he doesn’t have to feel awkward about it.

He narrows it down to three, then takes pictures of all of them, before he realizes he has no idea who to send them to. There’s Mitch, but Auston’s determined to do this on his own. The next obvious choice would be his mom, or maybe his sisters, but he already feels guilty about getting married without telling them, even if it’s not a real marriage, so he doesn’t really want to have to flat-out lie about it.

He ends up texting Willy, because Willy’s the kind of guy who has opinions on things like jewelry, and tends to be decisive about shit when he has to.

 _hey i have a wedding ring q,_ Auston texts.

 _oooooooooooooooh?_  , Willy sends back.

Auston just sends the pictures, and doesn’t bother adding captions.

 _gimme 5,_ Willy says, and Auston assumes that’s how long it’s going to take Willy to type up all his thoughts, so he tells the sales clerk he’s waiting on a second opinion and sits down and waits in a chair by the door, trying to remind himself that it’s just a ring for a fake marriage, and that he has no reason to be nervous.

A few minutes later, the door opens, and Auston looks up to see Willy, mid-dramatic entrance, which, in retrospect, he probably should have expected.

“Is Mitch here?” Willy asks.

“No,” Auston replies. “How did you know where I was?”

“Well, I knew it was a jewelry store, and there are only three of those around here, and this one’s closest to the house,” Willy says. “Why isn’t Mitch here?”

“Because he’s not. Can you just help me choose, please?” Auston says, because he really just wants to have the fucking rings already, and he doesn’t want to keep second guessing himself.

“Alright,” Willy says, and he seems to sense how stressed Auston is. “Let’s have a look.”

The sales clerk pulls out the rings again, and Auston watches as Willy inspects each of them carefully.

Finally, after a few minutes, Willy says, “Honestly, all of them seem fine, whatever you choose will be good.”

“What?” Auston says. “I asked you because I thought you were opinionated.”

“I mean, I am, but they’re all, like, fine options for you guys,” Willy says, shrugging, and Auston cannot believe that Willy is being nonchalant about wedding rings, of all things.

“Then how am I supposed to choose?” Auston asks.

“I dunno, flip a coin? Or ask your fiancé,” Willy says.

“He’s not–” Auston starts, but then he cuts himself off and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know that it’s, like, a weird situation, but – like, he’s done everything so far, y’know? I just wanted to do something for him.” He opens his eyes, only to find Willy staring at him consideringly.

“He’s gonna like anything you pick out,” Willy says, softer than usual.

And, like, Auston knows that, is the thing. He’ll probably be happy that Auston went to the effort of going to the jewelry store and purchasing a ring, period. Mitch doesn’t expect Auston to, like, do things for him in general, which is fucked up, because there isn’t much Auston wouldn’t do for Mitch, at this point. Mitch just – he cares, so much, and it’s kind of, like, the most incredible thing Auston’s ever seen. He has this sneaky generosity, where he’ll just quietly make you the center of his world, and he’d never expect anyone to do the same, but Auston did, and he’s never looked back, because his world has been so much better with Mitch Marner at the center.

“I just don’t want this to be a random thing,” Auston says, because it might be a fake wedding ring, but it’s a fake wedding ring for _Mitch,_ who deserves better than a coin-toss.

“Alright,” Willy says, nodding. “Well, which is the most comfortable? Have you tried them on?”

Auston blinks. “You can do that?”

Willy rolls his eyes.

“What? I don’t buy jewelry,” Auston says, defensive.

“Clearly,” Willy says. “Alright, well, you should do that.”

Auston ignores the judgemental look Willy gives him and picks one of the rings up. He slides it onto his hand – his left, because that’s where wedding rings go – and then he kind of just. Stares.

It’s just – it’s cheap, and a little too big, but it looks like a real wedding ring. It’s simple and silver and on Auston’s left hand, and it looks like something permanent, something that’s not designed to be taken off. And, like, Auston’s literally getting married to exploit some of the dumb legal benefits of having a spouse to put down on applications, but still, somewhere deep down, he kind of believes that marriage is something special, and wearing this ring, on this finger, on this hand – that’s connected to that special thing.

And, like, that special thing is love, and being together, and sharing some version of forever. Auston thinks about Mitch, and how they’re getting married, and then getting divorced, and he thinks about how there’s going to be a record of them making a promise to do something big together, something that will stay with them for the rest of their lives.

When Auston thinks about it that way, it doesn’t seem like anything new, because it isn’t, really.

“You good?” Willy asks, and Auston realizes he hasn’t spoken in a while.

“Yeah, sorry,” Auston says, and then he takes a breath and turns to the sales clerk. “I like this one, I think.”

“Nice,” Willy says, smiling as he throws an arm over Auston’s shoulders. “Good pick, dude.”

Auston nods absently, and hope Willy can’t see how breathless he is.

* * *

Auston goes to Mitch’s place, after the jewelry store, which is kind of unusual, because Mitch spends most of his time at Auston’s place, but he’s there now, and Auston kind of wants to see him as soon as possible.

“Hey,” Mitch says, when he answers the door. He looks surprised, but he’s also smiling, like, really fucking wide. “You could’ve texted.”

“Because you always text me whenever you’re coming over?” Auston steps inside.

“That’s different and you know it,” Mitch says. “Your housemates love me.” He starts walking in the direction of his bedroom, and Auston follows.

“Something like that,” Auston says. “Uh, were you, like, doing stuff?”

“Nah,” Mitch says, flopping into his beanbag chair. “I was gonna do homework, but I got distracted making a wedding playlist.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not,” Mitch admits.

Auston drops his backpack on the ground, and debates trying to squeeze next to Mitch, but he decides to sit on the floor with his back against the wall instead, his legs running along the floor in front of the beanbag chair. Mitch rests his feet on them, tucking his big toes under the edge of the fabric where Auston’s jeans are torn at the knee. For a second, Auston thinks Mitch is going to chirp him for wearing ripped jeans, because that happens a lot, but Mitch just stares at his feet. It’s probably not good for the pants, and it kind of tickles, but Auston doesn’t want to tell Mitch to move.

“So,” Auston says, clearing his throat. “I got us rings.”

Mitch looks up and blinks. “What, like, mood rings?”

“No, dumbass, wedding rings,” Auston says, rolling his eyes.

“What?” Mitch says, frowning. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, I did it, so,” Auston says.  

“And they’re not mood rings?”

Auston sighs. “Why would I buy mood rings, Marns.”

“Well, what are they, then?” Mitch asks.

“They’re, like, wedding rings,” Auston says. “From a jewelry store, or whatever.”

“Can I see?” Mitch asks.

“Sure,” Auston says, then turns to grab them from his backpack.

He’s nervous, as he hands the small velvet box to Mitch, and he watches Mitch’s face as he opens the box.

“Oh,” Mitch says. “It’s a wedding ring.”

“Yeah,” Auston says.

“Not a mood ring,” Mitch says, but he sounds kind of distant. He takes feet off of Auston’s legs, and Auston brings his knees to his chest as Mitch moves to sit on the floor.

“Is it alright?” Auston asks.

Mitch doesn’t respond, just slips the wedding ring onto his finger, and Auston uses every bit of willpower he has – which, granted, isn’t that much, around Mitch – to not stare at it.

Finally, after what seems like forever, Mitch says, “Awesome,” and turns to Auston and smiles, bright and pleased.  

Relief floods Auston, and he smiles back.

* * *

Auston fits three midterms, two paycheques, and more government paperwork than he knew existed into the month before the wedding, and that’s maybe why the night before the day of arrives mostly without him noticing. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to be nervous, and doesn’t end up getting a chance to figure it out, because Marns shows up, banging on the front door.

Auston is surprised, for once, at him being here, if only because Mitch is definitely supposed to be in class right now. Also, he’s holding, like, three garment bags, and looks very stressed out.

“I can’t figure out what to wear,” Mitch says, walking past Auston and into the house without waiting for a ‘hello’.

“For what?” Auston asks, trailing after Mitch as he makes his way into the living room.

“For tomorrow,” Mitch says, like it should be obvious. “You know, the wedding and shit. I’ve narrowed it down to a few suits, but like, dude, don’t even get me started on ties.” He throws the garment bags on the coffee table and lies down on the couch, dramatically tossing his arm over his eyes.

Auston sits on the arm of the couch, right by Mitch’s head. “Dude, we’re getting married at City Hall, it doesn’t matter what we wear,” Auston says.

“Well, what are you wearing?” Mitch asks, tilting his head back to look at Auston.

“I don’t know. Like, pants and a shirt, whatever. We don’t need to wear suits.” Brownie and Zach walk in as Auston adds, “It’s not like there’s gonna be a photographer, or whatever.”

“What’s not gonna have a photographer?” Brownie asks, sitting in the armchair across the room sideways. Zach leans against the wall next to him.

“Our wedding,” Mitch says.

“Oh, yeah, you don’t need one,” Zach says. “We’ve got you.”

“What?” Auston asks.

“Like, we’ll take pictures for you,” Zach says.

“We got disposable cameras and everything,” Brownie adds. “Willy too.”

“Aw, we can put them in an album or something,” Mitch says. “Like, a physical one, not on Facebook. Or maybe a scrapbook?”

“Wh – you all know this isn’t a real wedding, right?” Auston says.

“Okay, but we are your real friends,” Zach says. “We’re going to take pictures.”

Auston realizes this is not up for debate, especially when he makes the mistake of glancing down at Mitch, who looks up at him, his expression pleading.

“Aus,” Mitch says. “Suits? For the scrapbook?”

Auston sighs. “For the scrapbook,” he says, kinda hoping Mitch is joking, but not quite, because a Mitch and Auston scrapbook seems like it’d be pretty baller.

Mitch’s face splits into a huge grin. “Sweet, now we can figure out outfits together,” he says, and then his eyes go wide, and he gasps. “Wait, Matts, do you know what we can wear?”

Auston knows exactly what Mitch is talking about, because Mitch is predictable as fuck. “Absolutely not,” he says.

“What’re you two talking about?” Zach asks, smiling like he _knows_ he’s about to get fodder for chirps for the next century.

“Nothing,” Auston says, firm.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” Brownie says, turning to sit on the chair properly and put his chin in his hands.

“You’re so lame,” Mitch says, smiling up at Auston. “C’mon, it’s cute.”

“Marns,” Auston says, and it’s maybe a whine.

“Matts,” Mitch whines right back.

“Jesus christ,” Brownie says. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“No, just Mitchy,” Auston says, automatic, and Mitch headbutts his thigh.

“Fuck off,” Mitch says. “C’mon, picture it, Matty: matching suits.” He holds his hands out like he’s imagining it on a marquee, or something.

Zach and Brownie look like kids in a fucking candy store. Auston decides he hates everyone from this stupid city.

“You guys have _matching suits?_ ” Brownie says. “Are you serious?”

“Why?” Zach asks. “When could you possibly–”

“I needed a suit for an interview freshman year, alright? He–” Auston flicks Mitch’s forehead, because he knows it will both annoy him and get him to make his cute scrunched-up face ”–just tagged along and bought the same thing.”

“Tagged along? _You_ asked _me_ to come with you, because of my impeccable sense of style,” Mitch says, flipping onto his stomach and propping himself up on his elbows. Mitch is skinny, so it’s easy to forget that he’s kind of muscular, but right now, Auston can see that his arms are really toned, and he has to try very hard not to stare.

“Because you knew where stores were,” Auston says.

“Please, you wanted me to reassure you that you looked good in whatever suit you bought,” Mitch says.

Auston’s about to protest that, because he doesn’t – or, well, he mostly doesn’t, and he definitely shouldn’t – care if Mitch thinks he looks good, but before he can, Zach says, “You have to show us.”

“I don’t even think it fits anymore,” Auston lies.

“Try it on,” Brownie says. “C’mon, the people need to know.”

“Yeah, Matty, the people need to know,” Mitch repeats, like a brat, and Auston flicks him again.

“I hate all of you,” Auston says, but he gets up. Mitch grabs his backpack and garment bags, then follows Auston into the bedroom.

When they get there, Mitch closes the door behind him and throws all his shit on Auston’s bed. “C’mon, Matts, we’ve gotta. It’s so us, y’know?”

“How is that us?” Auston asks, rifling through his closet.

“Uh, ridiculous and adorable?” Mitch says.

Auston finds the suit in the closet, so he takes it off the rack and turns around, only to be greeted by the sight of Mitch taking off his jeans.

“Jesus,” Auston says, before he can stop himself.

Mitch rolls his eyes. “Blushing bride, much? I’m in my underwear, relax.”

Auston Does Not think about Mitch _not_ wearing underwear, because that would be an incredibly bad idea, so he starts to unbutton his flannel instead. “You’re way too comfortable around me,” he says.

There’s a second before Mitch responds, and Auston looks up to see that Mitch is watching him take off his shirt, for some reason, before his eyes shoot up to Auston’s face, and he says, “Yeah, well, good thing I’m marrying you, then.”

“Not a real marriage,” Auston responds automatically, but he feels kind of hot, and Mitch’s face is definitely red.

They finish getting dressed mostly in silence, and Auston kind of wants to know if Mitch is looking at him again. He doesn’t check, though, because Mitch is straight, regardless of whether or not he watches Auston take off his clothing.

Mitch is dressed first, but he waits for Auston instead of going back out to the living room, and once Auston’s finished putting on his suit jacket, Mitch stands in front of him and looks him up and down for a second.

“Guess it still fits,” Mitch says, tugging at the hem of Auston’s sleeve.

Auston shrugs, and tries not to think about how close Mitch’s hand is to his. “Guess I haven’t made major gainz since freshman year. Maybe I should go harder at the gym.”

“God, please, no,” Mitch says, and he sounds legitimately distressed. “You’re already huge.”

“Fuck off,” Auston says, blushing.

The blue of the suit brings out Mitch’s eyes, and Auston doesn’t say it or anything, but he stares, for a moment. In his defense, Mitch is staring back, and for a second, neither of them says anything.

Then, Mitch clears his throat and says, “You look nice in this, man.”

“Yeah?” Auston says, a little too soft.

“Yeah,” Mitch says, smiling this easy, crooked smile that has Auston’s heart pounding out of control. “Definitely husband material.”

Auston’s entire world stops, for a second, because it just sounds way too serious, but then he snaps out of it, and reminds himself that this is just Mitch, and that this isn’t – whatever.

“I’m a catch,” he deadpans, rolling his eyes and pushing past Mitch to walk out of the room.

“Yeah, I landed a good one,” Mitch says, clapping a hand on Auston’s shoulder as they walk down the hallway.

When they get to the living room, they’re met with a round of applause and wolf-whistles from Brownie and Zach, but before they can actually say anything, Willy walks into the room.

“Hey gu–” he starts, but then he stops when he sees Auston and Mitch, and crosses his arms. “Are you guys choosing wedding outfits without me?”

“We’re not wearing these,” Auston says, and Mitch looks like he’s about to protest, but Willy speaks first.

“No shit. I know this is a ‘fake’ wedding, but _matching_? Come on,” he says, adding air quotes around the word ‘fake’.

“I think we look great,” Mitch says, linking arms with Auston, which is nice, but Auston shakes him off, because principles.

“We’re _not,_ ” Auston says.

“But the coordination, Aus,” Mitch says. “Think of the scrapbook.”

“There’s coordination, and then there’s this,” Willy says. “It’s tacky.”

“ _You’re_ tacky,” Mitch shoots back. “C’mon, look at Matts. He looks too good in this suit to not marry me in it.”

“Jesus,” Auston says, turning red.

“Well, he can wear that, and you can wear a different suit,” Willy says.

“But we’re so cute when we match,” Mitch says, pouting.

“Yeah, if you’re, like, backup dancers in a music video,” Willy says. “Not if you’re getting _married_.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure this is a decision for me and my fiancé,” Mitch says, and then he turns to Auston. “Please? You know we’ll look fly as fuck at the altar, bro.”

And like – the whole situation is just a fucking joke, and Mitch literally just used the words ‘altar’ and ‘bro’ in the same sentence, but there’s something in the way he’s looking at Auston that’s earnest, like it would legitimately make him so happy to get married in their dumb matching suits.

“Matthews,” Willy says, firm, like he can tell that Auston’s wavering. “Don’t you dare get married in matching suits. Don’t you _dare_.”

* * *

They show up for their ceremony in their matching suits, and Auston feels a little stupid, but mostly in a good way.

It’s nice out, for this time of year. Warm enough that Marns takes off his suit jacket and starts tying knots with the sleeves while they’re waiting to head into the chambers. Auston watches him do it, listens to the guys’ hushed conversation.

And it’s weird: he’s been waiting to get nervous all day, and it keeps not happening. He suspects that that’s because, for all the preparation, it just. Doesn’t feel like a real wedding, at least not like the ones Auston’s been to. Like: Marns slept over last night, fell asleep working on a paper for his graphic novels class like he has a million times before; even after they got ready this morning they had to wait for Brownie to get back from a lecture so they could pile into his gross old truck to get here.

It maybe doesn’t feel entirely real, yet, either. He’s sitting there in city hall, looking at all the other couples going in for their weddings or whatever, and it’s this surreal feeling, like it hasn’t really registered that that’s going to be him. He’s getting _married_. He’s going to be a married person. Fake-married, or real-fake-married, but – still, married.

He’s going to be married to _Marns_.

Maybe that’s why he’s not nervous. It’s the two of them, same as always. Nothing scary about that.

Mitch grabs Auston’s hand, and Auston jumps, kind of startled. There’s this weird moment of, just, _ahhhh_ , because Marns is holding his hand and his fingers are pressed up with Auston’s like this is a thing they do; and then Auston sees the clerk coming over to lead them in for the ceremony and it makes sense. He’s being convincing.

There’s something in Auston’s gut like disappointment, which is _so_ dumb – obviously Mitch wasn’t holding his hand, what the fuck, Matthews – but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it because they’re all walking into the room, and it’s _happening_.

It’s not like there’s an actual altar, but still, it’s a room designed for weddings, with white walls and flowers, not just any old courtroom in city hall, which is kind of what Auston had been picturing. They stand at the front, holding each other’s hands, and Auston goes back and forth between looking at his feet and the hem of Mitch’s jacket sleeve as the officiant starts talking about the journey they’re going to take together. It’s all the standard stuff – Mitch had written a draft of his own, and Auston’s still not sure how serious he’d been about using them, but either way, Auston was not going to entertain the idea of being legally proclaimed “bros for life” when his tuition was at stake – but still, it’s romantic shit, and Auston feels strange hearing it about him and Marns.

Then, she tells them to look into each other’s eyes, so they do.

And god, it’s just – it’s so fucking _weird._ He and Mitch are literally standing here, promising to be partners in life, holding each other’s hands, and this entire thing is so fucking absurd, because they’re not even done with college yet, and have no fucking clue what the rest of their lives will even look like. But Mitch’s eyes are wide and earnest, and Auston just – he cannot keep a straight face, because what the _fuck._

Mitch breaks down laughing around the same time as Auston, which sets Auston off even more, and, like, maybe a mid-ceremony giggle fit isn’t the best way to make it seem like they’re really in love, but every time they get close to calming down, Auston looks into Mitch’s eyes and loses it again.

It goes on for a few minutes, and the clerk is probably getting annoyed, but Willy says, “Just look at the eyebrows instead,” and Auston’s still feeling like he’s about to crack every time, but they make it through the rest of the ceremony.

“Do you, Auston Matthews, take Mitchell Marner to be your lawfully wedded husband?” the clerk asks.

“I do,” Auston says, smiling, and he sneaks a look at Mitch’s eyes. He looks as happy as Auston feels, and it might be leftover giddiness from before, but honestly, it’s probably just that he’s Mitch, and that’s just what he does.

She asks Mitch the same thing, and god, Auston can’t take his eyes off him as she does, still can’t as Mitch says, “I do,” and squeezes Auston’s hands, almost like he’s reassuring him, but Auston doesn’t need to be reassured.

Then, Brownie and Hyman both dutifully step forward to hand Auston and Mitch their respective wedding rings, and Auston’s voice is steady as he speaks.

“I, Auston Matthews, take you, Mitch Marner, to be my husband,” he says. “To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer–” he cracks a small smile as he says it, and Mitch gives him one in return “–and I promise my love to you. With this ring I thee wed.” Then, he slides the ring onto Mitch’s hand. Mitch is shaking, a little bit, so Auston rubs his thumb over the ring once, then looks up and gives Mitch a small nod.

“I, Mitch Marner, take you, Auston Matthews, to be my husband,” Mitch says. He says Auston’s name slowly, letting the syllables land. “To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, and I promise my love to you. With this ring, I thee wed.” He fumbles a little with the ring, and nearly drops it for a second, but then he recovers and does these dumb little finger guns before he puts the ring on Auston.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you partners for life,” the officiant says. “You may now kiss.”

“Nice,” Auston says, so there won’t be, like, an awkward pause while the officiant realizes they’re not going to kiss; or at least, he starts saying it, meets Mitch’s eyes so he can make some joke about being husbands, except then Marns is kind of grinning and Auston only has time to say “Ni–” before he’s getting tugged in by his tie and Mitch kisses him, full on the mouth.

It’s a pretty not-great kiss, all things considered. Their mouths barely match up, because Mitch is smiling the whole time, and Auston’s too aware of the guys wolf-whistling, and he can’t – his brain isn’t working, he doesn’t think, because all he can focus on is Mitch’s lips, closer than he knows what to do with. It occurs to him that he might be the first guy Mitch has ever kissed, and then it occurs to him that he might _not_ be, and it’s probably a good thing that Mitch pulls back, then, because those kind of thoughts are a hundred percent absolutely Not Allowed.

The whole thing couldn’t have lasted longer than three seconds. Auston’s definitely bright red anyways, can feel his cheeks burning while Marns cackles, doubled over in Auston’s space.

“Your _face_ ,” Mitch gasps out, clutching his stomach like he’s laughing so hard it hurts. “Oh my god, Matty, I’m not that bad of a kisser–”

And – Mitch’s kissing skills are not the issue, here, they’re so not even _close_ to the issue, but Auston jumps on the excuse anyways. “You’re terrible, actually,” he says, trying to salvage whatever scraps of his dignity may still exist. “Like, you’re–”

“I’m your _husband_ ,” Mitch says, all proud of himself, like that’s any kind of an argument at all; and then he’s elbowing Auston’s ribs, holding out his left hand to admire the ring. “C’mon, we fucking killed it.”

And Auston’s still a little embarrassed, right, but it’d definitely be weird for him to dwell on this kiss thing, so he holds out his hand right by Marns’, so their rings are there next to each other. And it’s kind of funny – matching suits and matching rings, now, his existence is officially a cosmic fucking joke – but maybe kind of nice too, even with everything. There’re a couple seconds of them just looking at their rings, almost peaceful, and then one of the disposal cameras clicks, loud, because of course it does, because Auston’s life hasn’t been peaceful since freshman year, probably.

“I just took the cutest fucking picture in existence,” Will says. “Oh my god, they look _adorable_ ,”

“You’re too invested,” Auston says, but he can’t get this dopey smile off his face, especially not when Mitch flings an arm around his waist, pulling him in.

“Fuck yeah, we’re adorable,” he says, and he’s still teasing, mostly, but he grins up at Auston like they’re both in on the joke, and it still doesn’t feel like a real wedding, exactly, and they’ve got to get out of the chapel or they’re going to get charged extra, and Auston’s mouth still tastes like Mitch, but – They did it.

They actually did this.

* * *

The guys had wanted to go out to celebrate, but it’s a Wednesday, and they all have work to do, so they order pizza and eat in the living room, halfheartedly pretending to do work but mostly just hanging out.

“This weekend,” Brownie says. “We’ll have a party.”

“Good call,” Mitch says. He’s sprawled across Auston’s lap, feet dangling over the side of the armchair as he holds a slice of pizza with his free hand. “This deserves a real celebration.”

Auston opens his mouth to protest that that they don’t need to have a real celebration for a fake marriage, but before he gets a chance to speak, Willy says, “Does that mean we should wait to give you your wedding gift?”

“You got us a gift?” Mitch asks, perking up.

“You know you didn’t have to–” Auston starts.

“Yes, we know, nothing is real and you don’t believe in fun,” Willy says, rolling his eyes. “Relax, we just wanted to, that’s all.”

“I think we can give it to them now,” Zach says.

“The sooner the better, probably,” Brownie says. “Like, for convenience.”

“If we all agree on right now, I can get it from my room,” Willy says.

Brownie and Zach look at each other and nod, and Mitch seems like he’s in favor of it, so Auston just shrugs in agreement.

“Sweet,” Willy says, and then he gets up and walks out of the living room.

Mitch shifts a little, so his half-eaten slice of pizza is right in front of Auston’s face, and Auston lunges forward to take a bite. Mitch notices, and moves it away at the last second, and then he raises his eyebrows at Auston.

“Rude,” Mitch says. “I’m your husband now, you’ve gotta treat me right.”

Auston rolls his eyes. “Fine, may I please have a bite of pizza?”

“Sure thing, buddy,” Mitch says, then holds it front of Auston’s mouth so he can get an actual bite this time. “See? Communication is key to a happy marriage.”

Auston’s trying to think of a response to that, but before he can, he hears the click of a disposable camera on the other side of the living room. That’s going to get real old real fast, he thinks.

“Wow, hashtag goals right here,” Brownie says, lowering the camera and turning the little dial. “This is one for the scrapbook, for sure.”

Mitch hasn’t moved the pizza, so Auston just takes another bite while flipping him off with both hands.

Willy walks back into the room as Auston’s still chewing, and Zach says, “Well, speaking of domestic bliss–”

“I thought I was gonna do the lead-in,” Willy says, offended. “I had a thing prepared.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Mitch asks.

“So, we’ve been talking about this for a while,” Zach says. “And we figured – like, you’re over here all the time anyway, and now you’re literally married to Matts–”

“Technically,” Auston says.

“Fine, but actually, you guys are always together,” Zach says.

“And he’s in the house groupchat anyway,” Brownie adds. “Also, we learned, like, a week ago that it’s actually really cheap to get keys made.”

“Keys?” Mitch asks.

“Yeah,” Willy says, and he digs a small plastic bag out of his pocket and tosses it in their direction. Auston catches it, then holds it out so both of them can see the key. There’s a small piece of paper that says, _Congratulations, AM+MM! xoxo, the boys,_ and a small heart-shaped keychain.

“You got me a key to the house?” Mitch asks, then turns to give Auston a questioning look. Auston just shrugs, because this is as much of a surprise to him as it is to Mitch.

“It felt overdue, honestly,” Willy says.

“It’s mostly for us,” Zach says. “Our neighbors have called us three times to warn us about a break-in because of you climbing that stupid tree.”

“Don’t call our tree stupid,” Mitch says.

Auston’s stomach Does Not flip hearing Mitch call the tree theirs, because it’s a tree, and Auston’s pretty sure that if anyone owns the tree, it’s his landlord. “You guys realize he’s never gonna leave, now, right?”

“Worst-case scenario, we split the rent between the five of us, and Mitchy sublets his place,” Brownie says.

“Where would he sleep?” Willy asks.

“The tree,” Mitch says, automatic.  

“I mean, it’s honestly – there are worse ideas. If you think about it,” Zach says, thoughtful.  

“Than Mitch sleeping in a tree?” Auston asks. “I’m pretty sure he’d fall out of it and die.”

“Wouldn’t you get life insurance money, though?” Mitch asks, and Auston furrows his brow, trying to remember if he knows anything about life insurance.

“Moving in, I mean,” Zach says.

“What, he’d just crash on the couch?” Willy asks.

“Or just sleep in Matty’s room,” Brownie says. “Like he always does.”

Auston tenses up at that, and Mitch must notice, because he sounds as close as he gets to serious when he says, “Guys.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Auston asks. “I feel like this should be a house-wide decision.”

“Duh,” Willy says.

“Hey, you’d only pay half rent, right?” Brownie says. “If you two shared a room.”

“We–” Auston starts, but then he pauses, because – the house is kind of crap, so it’s not like rent is expensive, but it’s still a pretty big chunk of money every month. Plus, Auston knows Mitch really doesn’t like his place, even if he’s way too polite to ever complain about it. And he does sleep over, like, a lot.

Mitch turns to look at Auston, furrowing his brow, and he doesn’t look away as he says, “I mean, how serious are you guys?” It feels like he’s asking Auston, but Zach answers for him.

“We could, like, actually look into it. See if the subletting thing is allowed.”

That starts the guys debating about housing bylaws, and Mitch joins in, because he’s Mitch. No one brings up the roommate thing in any kind of detail after that, and it’d be easy to chalk it up as a dumb hypothetical, like when they bicker over who would survive the longest in an apocalypse – it’s Auston, it’s obviously Auston, he’s a fucking beast – except–

Auston doesn’t know. Something about how Marns looked at him, asking all tentative instead of being sure about it like he is with, like, everything else he does. And it’s not – Auston’s not offended, he doesn’t think, but he can tell it’s still bothering Mitch, even when the subject’s changed.

“You don’t have to stress about it,” he says, later, when they’re studying up in his room, because it seems like a just the two of them conversation anyways. “The, like – the moving in thing. I’ll tell the guys you’re not into it.”

Mitch looks up from his book, peers over at Auston kind of incredulous. “You think I don’t want to room with you?” he asks, and when Auston shrugs, he sighs. “Matts, of course I – it’s your space, I know you like to get away from people.”

“You’re not _people_ ,” Auston says, and then, ‘cause it’s Mitch and they don’t lie to each other, “I thought you didn’t want to.”

Mitch fixes Auston with a Look, like he’s trying to be exasperated. It mostly just looks fond. “I, like. Always want to be with you, dude.”

“I always want to be with you too,” Auston says, and it’s almost a really nice moment, except then Marns makes a face, wagging his tongue out all exaggerated.

“Gross,” he says, so Auston has to try and shove him off the bed.

“You’re so–”

“Hey!” Mitch laughs, scrambling to hang onto the headboard, “I was joking, I was joking–”

“Can’t hear you,” Auston says, goofy, and they kind of tussle for a few more seconds until Mitch manages to swat Auston’s arm out of the way and flop down on top of him, triumphant. He’s lying right across Auston’s stomach, makes a big show of opening up his book and pretending to start reading again.

“Get off, I can’t breathe,” Auston says, but he’s laughing too hard for it to have any weight.

“Make me,” Mitch says, smug, and Auston can’t find the heart to try, so he settles for jabbing at Marns’ hip one more time before laying back and trying to get comfortable with most of Mitch sprawled across him. It’s not awful – Mitch is warm, just on the right side of too heavy. Right at home in Auston’s space, which, like, story of his life.

It’s sort of comforting, actually, this steady weight. Enough that, with the sound of pages turning and the muffled TV downstairs, Auston starts dozing off, or he would, except for that Mitch starts kind of shaking.

“Are you – what’re you laughing at?”

“I’m not,” Mitch says, except he’s literally giggling, so Auston scoffs.

“What, dude?”  

Mitch sits up to peer at Auston, this bigass grin on his face, eyes shining. “It’s just – it’s technically our wedding night,” he says.

“Gross,” Auston says, ‘cause Marns basically walked into that one, and now it’s Mitch’s turn to roll his eyes, setting his book down on Auston’s chest.

“You’re doing a crap job, FYI. Didn’t even carry me through a doorway.”

“Maybe you should carry me,” Auston retorts. He pokes at Mitch’s biceps. “Finally get in a workout.”  

Mitch bats him away, and does a really shit job of hiding a smile. “I hate you.”

“Nah, you don’t,” Auston says, reaching back to adjust his pillow.

“Nah, I don’t,” Mitch agrees, easy, and he clambers off of Auston to give him room, steals a pillow and hugs it close, watching Auston get cozy. It’d be a little weird, if it was anyone else staring like that, only it’s Marns, so it just. Is.

It’s this comfortable kind of silence, the two of them fitting around each other in the too-small bed, the kind of warm that comes with being inside on a fall night. Auston could stay here forever, like this, and be okay with it.

He nudges at Marns’ thigh from under the blankets. “Listen,“ he says. “You can do what you want, but don’t not move in ‘cause of me. I promise I’m fine with it, room sharing and all.”

“Are you sure?” Mitch asks.

“Yes,” Auston says. “I’ll be paying half rent too, remember? I’m not just doing you a favor.”

“Okay, but – if you ever need me to, like, go away, you can kick me out and I’ll just crash on the couch, or whatever,” Mitch says. “No questions asked.”   

“Probably wouldn’t need the couch,” Auston says. “I bet Zachy’d let you room with him, he’s soft.”

“Maybe I’ll hit him up, when we’re divorced,” Mitch says, tracing the outline of Auston’s knee under the covers. “Work my way through the whole house.”

“Don’t give Willy any ideas,” Auston says, and they exchange smiles like it’s some inside joke, even though Auston doesn’t know the punchline. Not like it matters, either way – they’re going to be roommates, he thinks, and the whole defrauding the government thing is finally official, and today has been a lot, sure, but. The good kind of a lot. It’s _them_. That’s – if he knows anything, he knows them.

* * *

Auston’s not exactly sure what they’re celebrating anymore. The wedding thing, ostensibly, except most of the people here aren’t actually aware that him and Marns are married; and it could maybe count as that bachelor party Will wanted, ‘cause all his drama friends are here and singing, like, showtunes in the kitchen, except that’s usually supposed to happen before the wedding, Auston thinks. He decides that they’re celebrating Mitch moving in, ‘cause they got the last box of his stuff in earlier today and a housewarming seems like the kind of cheesy shit Marns’d like.

Possibly the amount of booze present makes it not the most traditional housewarming. Whatever. It’s fun, is the point, and Auston’s had his cup refilled enough times that he doesn’t even really mind the mess they’re going to have to clean up tomorrow. Last he saw the boys they were up in his room trying to assemble Mitch’s Ikea bed frame and bickering over whether or not drills count as power tools. They sent Auston downstairs to try and find a screwdriver, and of course Mitch came with him, and none of that _really_ explains how Auston ended up sitting on the damp grass watching Mitch try to carve their initials into the base of their tree, so he gives up on trying.

“D’you think carving is bad for trees?” Auston asks, picking at a blade of grass and tossing it at Marns’ head.

Mitch looks like he’s thinking about it for, like, half a millisecond before going back to being laser-focused on carving the second M of his initials. “Maybe if you carved, like. Your dissertation. But we’re just doing four letters. And a heart?” Auston shrugs, easy. “And a heart,” Mitch decides, then goes back to scratching away at the tree, a little clumsy, brow furrowed.

Auston just watches him, a little bemused. Listens to the music from inside. He can’t make out the words, exactly, but it’s enough to drown out the showtunes, which can only ever be a good thing. It’s chilly out, enough that he would be too cold if he were sober, but right now, the air feels nice, and the world is kind of spinning, but in a good way.

“There,” Mitch says, a second or ten minutes or half an hour later, scooting back next to Auston so he can survey his work. “How’s it look?”

It looks like a four year old got their hands on an X-acto knife and tried to practice writing. The heart’s a little lopsided, kind of cutting off the edge of the A, and the little ‘plus’ between their initials kind of looks like a ‘T’.

“It’s perfect,” Auston says, honest, and Mitch beams at him. Their shoulders are pressed together, and Marns’ hand is kind of on top of Auston’s, and Auston thinks it’s just because Mitch is drunk and doesn’t realize it, but then he kind of squeezes it, and when Auston looks at him his eyes are soft.

“Dude,” Mitch says. “I’m so excited.”

“For what?” Auston asks, returning his smile, ‘cause Mitch should look like this all the time.

“Living here,” Mitch says. “Like, it’s such an upgrade, y’know? I mean, not – like, it’s kind of a crappy house, but it’s definitely a roommate upgrade.”

“Your old roommates were fine,” Auston says.

“I guess, but – I dunno. They weren’t my friends, once Marty graduated, y’know? But now I get to live with my friends, and with you.”

“Wait, I don’t count as a friend?” Auston leans back on his hands, kind of teasing.

“You know what I meant,” Mitch says shoving Auston’s knee, and then he just rests his hand on it, and Auston feels like he’s supposed to tell Mitch to back off, a little, but this feels so nice, so he doesn’t.

“Yeah,” Auston says. “I do.”

“I do,” Mitch echoes, and then he looks up at the sky and sighs, content. “Dude, we got _married_.”

“We did.”

“On Wednesday.”

“I was there,” Auston says.

“Man,” Mitch says, and now he laughs out loud, leans in to hide his face in Auston’s shoulder like he’s just thought of the funniest thing in the world. “What the fuck, we’re – like, we’re so good.”

“Friendship for the ages,” Auston says, while Mitch keeps giggling right next to him. Auston’s a fan of drunk Mitch, he decides. He’s a fan of every Mitch, maybe, but – still.

Mitch looks up at Auston, smiling, and it occurs to Auston, entirely uninvited, that their faces are close enough that if he wanted to, he could lean down and kiss him, and he’s not going to, duh, but there’s a split second where he just – thinks about it.

He imagines what would happen if he leaned down, right now, and kissed Mitch, who’s smiling at Auston like Auston’s something special, whose eyes are wide and so fucking bright, and who just looks so happy that Auston’s heart is pounding. He thinks about it, thinks about what Mitch’s lips would feel like pressed against his, thinks about Mitch smiling after, his breath warm against Auston’s mouth, his cheeks red. He thinks about it, and then his eyes drop to Mitch’s mouth, and–  

Auston blinks, and Mitch tucks his face into Auston again, his breath warm against Auston’s collarbone, and everything should go back to normal, but Auston’s head is spinning, because kissing Mitch has never been an option. It still isn’t an option, because Mitch is straight, and he’s Auston’s best friend, but he’s also the most incredible person Auston’s ever known, and Auston _wants to_.

And the thing is, Mitch is good-looking, objectively, and Auston’s wanted to kiss plenty of his friends before, but suddenly the idea of not kissing Mitch makes his heart hurt, and that’s not normal. That’s – that’s, like, really fucking bad, because things with Mitch aren’t supposed to hurt, but they do, and maybe they always have, a little bit, but now Auston can’t ignore it. He can’t think of anything else.

He feels like he’s drowning, a little bit, so he tries to take a deep breath, except when he inhales, he smells Mitch’s shampoo, which is really great, except for how it feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest.

He feels so fucking dumb, because this shouldn’t be happening after three years, when they’re already literally married, and living together, and Auston’s going to have to sleep in the same fucking bed as him for the foreseeable future because there’s no way that Zach and Brownie finished Marns’ bed frame after how much they drank, tonight, which is just–

It’s the kind of thing he should’ve known, is the thing, only he didn’t, but now that he does it seems like the most obvious thing in the world, because of course, of _course_ he’s in love with Mitch.

God, he’s _so_ in love, and so stupid, and so, so fucked.

* * *

Auston wakes up the next morning, miserable and hungover, and for a second, he wonders if everything about last night was a nightmare, epiphany and all, but then he hears a small, sleepy hum, and turns to see Mitch curled up in his sheets.

He looks so calm, and so sweet, and Auston wants to hold him, wants to press a kiss to his hair and feel Mitch lean into it, like he belongs in Auston’s arms, and Auston doesn’t know if he’s ever wanted to touch someone this badly.

So: he’s definitely still in love with Mitch.

Auston kind of wants to stay there and watch Mitch sleep, possibly for the rest of his life, but that’s definitely a bad idea, so he manages to tear his eyes away and throw his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the small discontented noise that Mitch makes as he does. He rubs at his eyes and takes a determined breath before standing up, mildly relieved to find that he’s not in imminent danger of puking, but his head is pounding and he still feels like garbage, so he grabs a towel and heads to the shower.

The water feels nice, and Auston just stands under the spray for a second, not really thinking about anything, and he even starts to feel like maybe he was overreacting about the whole Mitch thing, except then he turns to grab his shampoo and sees Mitch’s squeezed in next to it on the overcrowded shower shelf. He has to stop himself from doing something really dumb, like smelling it or something, because that would be super fucking creepy, and probably counterproductive.

He stays in there for a while, until Zach politely knocks on the door and asks how much longer he’s gonna be. Auston quickly finishes up and clears out, mumbling an apology as he leaves.

By some stroke of luck, Mitch isn’t in the room when Auston gets back, so he doesn’t have to worry about being naked in front of Mitch, and by the time he’s dressed, he’s feeling a little more human, and almost steady on his feet. He wanders down to the kitchen, trying to remember what food they have that’s good for a hangover and hoping that the guys didn’t finish all the coffee, and when he gets there, he’s greeted by the sight of Mitch standing there stirring half the sugar bowl into a mug of coffee, another one sitting next to him on the counter.

“Morning,” Mitch says, way too chipper.

Auston blinks at him. “Is that my shirt?”

“Sorry, it was the first thing I grabbed,” Mitch says, and then he holds out one of the mugs to Auston. “I saved you some coffee, so I think that makes us even.”

“My hero,” Auston says, only mostly joking.

“I know,” Mitch says smugly, and then he raises his mug to his lips, and Auston sees a glint of silver on his finger.

For a second, Auston thinks he’s imagining it, so he takes a long sip of coffee. Then he looks again, stealing a glance at Mitch’s hand, where he sees the wedding band, right there on Mitch’s right ring finger.

“You good, dude?’ Mitch asks, and Auston realizes he’s been staring.

“You’re wearing the ring,” Auston says.

Mitch looks down at it, smiling, and then he shrugs. “I mean, I dunno. It’s a nice ring.”

“A nice _wedding_ ring,” Auston says.

“It’s also a ring you got me,” Mitch says. “Just, like, y’know how kids have friendship bracelets? This is like… a friendship ring.”

Auston just stares at him, narrows his eyes. It’s too early for this shit, probably. “A friendship ring.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s… not a thing.”

“Well, there aren’t many friendships like ours,” Mitch says, casual.

Auston just stares at him, then wordlessly chugs the rest of his coffee in one long sip.

“Jesus, how hungover are you?” Mitch says, impressed.

Auston shakes his head, then reaches past Marns to the machine and starts to make another pot. “I just need caffeine to deal with you.”

Mitch rolls his eyes, hooks his chin over Auston’s shoulder and just kind of stays there. “Nah, you love me.”

“Ew.” Auston smiles on instinct, because it’s Mitch, but then he realizes just how close they are, and how easy this weird, domestic banter is, and his heart starts to ache again.

“Ew,” Mitch agrees, oblivious, which, fine. Auston’s fine. He focuses on the coffee machine and keeps his breathing normal, and Marns stays plastered up next to him, and–

It’s fine.


	2. Chapter 2

The thing about being married to Marns is that, all things considered, it’s not that different from not being married to him. Auston’s not sure if that means they were basically married before or if they’re just really shitty at being husbands, but – It’s too easy to get used to, having him here like this, ‘cause, see, Mitch is a good fake husband.

It shouldn’t be a surprise. Auston forgets, sometimes, that Mitch is just a genuinely kind person, who does random thoughtful shit without even thinking about it. He steals Auston’s clothing all the time, sure, but a week after Mitch moves in, Auston comes home late one night to find his laundry folded and put away, and when he slips on his favorite t-shirt, it’s warm, and it smells like Mitch’s detergent.

He walks into the living room, where Mitch and Brownie are on the couch, their laptops open as _Cupcake Wars_ plays on the TV.

“Yo,” Auston says, and Mitch turns around.

“Oh, hey,” Mitch says. “Wanna watch?”

Auston shrugs. “I’m probably going to bed in a sec. Uh, did you, like, do laundry?”

“Yeah, I threw some of your stuff in, hope that’s okay,” Mitch says.

“You didn’t have to,” Auston says.

“Eh,” Mitch says, tilting his head to one side. “It’s not a big deal.”

He brushes it off so easily, like it was just a few t-shirts and not four literal weeks’ worth of unwashed clothes, and for a second, Auston wonders if Mitch is genuinely unaware that it’s definitely kind of a big deal, but then Mitch gives him this small smile, the kind of thing that Auston only notices because he knows to look for it, and Auston realizes that it’s intentional.

“Aw, what a good husband,” Brownie says, and Auston walks over to the couch and smacks him on the back of the head before wordlessly sitting down next to Mitch, stretching his arm along the back of the sofa so Mitch can tuck himself into Auston’s side.

Auston ends up falling asleep pretty soon after that, and Mitch apparently does too, because when Auston wakes up, it’s 3am, the TV is off, and Mitch is snoring lightly on his chest.

It takes Auston a second. “Marns,” he nudges him, gentle. Mitch makes this little ‘mmph’ sound, kind of smushes his face in Auston’s t-shirt, still asleep. “Mitchy.”

“What?” Mitch asks, without opening his eyes. “Matts?”

“We should go up to bed,” Auston says.

“‘Kay,” Mitch says, but he doesn’t move, so Auston’s left to squirm out from under him and tug him to his feet, gentle. Mitch blinks, bleary-eyed. “Bed, okay.”

They make their way up the stairs, Auston walking behind Mitch, because he’s only about 70% convinced that Mitch isn’t going to fall asleep right there and fall down the stairs. They manage, though, and when they get to their room, Mitch collapses face first into his pillow, doesn’t even bother getting under the covers.

Auston kind of hesitates, figuring out the best way to get in bed without disturbing Mitch.

“Stop thinkin’ so loud,” Mich mumbles, eyes shut.

“Sorry,” Auston says, but Mitch is already passed out again, and it doesn’t take Auston long to join him.

* * *

The bed situation is, probably, all Auston’s fault. Maybe a tiny bit the boys’ fault, because they got three legs and a headboard into making Marns’ bed before giving up, but – it’s been a week, and then two, and then almost a month and it’s still there. Auston’s had time. He and Mitch could’ve finished it.

They didn’t. Haven’t, and Auston shouldn’t be as okay with that as he is.

It would be easier if Mitch was an inconsiderate sleeper. Auston _wishes_ Mitch was an inconsiderate sleeper. He wishes Mitch kicked, and hogged the blankets, and snored and spread out and made Auston’s nights hell, but he doesn’t, because of course he doesn’t.

Usually, Mitch just curls up quietly on his side of the bed, and if Auston comes back to the room late, he’ll wake up just enough to give Auston a sleepy smile and maybe mumble “welcome back” as Auston climbs under the covers. He is, objectively, a good person to share a bed with, and it’s kind of the hardest part of it all, for Auston.

Like, there are a lot of things that are hard about the whole ‘being in love with Mitch’ thing, but the bed sharing is definitely the worst, because Auston gets to _have_ it. Auston gets to walk home on cold nights and know that when he gets there, there’s a warm bed, and his favorite fucking person on the planet is going to be in it. At night, Auston doesn’t have the energy to be heartbroken, not over someone who makes him so happy, and it’s hard to move past someone when the thought of them is pretty much the only thing you have to look forward to in your immediate future.

Sometimes, Auston goes to sleep first, and Mitch is the one who’s crawling under the covers after staying late at the library. If he’s really stressed, he’ll curl up with his head on Auston’s chest, and Auston will run his fingers through Mitch’s hair.

Sometimes, they’ll go to bed at the same time, and Mitch will wrap his arms around Auston as they fall asleep, usually if they haven’t spoken a lot that day, or if one of them was in a bad mood earlier.

Sometimes, they won’t touch at all before they go to sleep, but they’ll wake up tangled together anyway, with Mitch’s leg thrown over his as Mitch’s hand rests painfully high on his thigh, or Mitch’s forehead so close that Auston wouldn’t even have to move his head to kiss it.

He doesn’t. It’s a close thing, sometimes.

And then there’s the times when Auston will wake up in the middle of the night, and Mitch will be so close that Auston can feel the heat radiating off his back, and he’ll be sleepy enough to press up against him, gently nudge an arm under Mitch’s neck, and let himself enjoy the way Mitch’s weight feels as he leans back against him.

There’s another half-built bedframe, and if Auston had any sense of self-preservation, he’d go and finish the goddamn thing himself, but Auston can’t even begin to pretend he’s strong enough to give this up.

* * *

“You _have_ to convince them, guys, come on,” Breyana says, “It’s France.”

“Do you even speak French?” Alex asks, skeptical. Her connection’s not the greatest, the video lagging a little so Auston sees her patented disapproving big sister look a few seconds late.

“I would if I was going to France!” Breyana protests. “Besides, Auston’s in _Canada_.”

Auston grins at his laptop. “You jealous?”

Breyana rolls her eyes. “Yes, Auston, so jealous of your eight month winters and strange fascination with men in skates.”

Auston laughs, sits back against his pillows and just listens to the other two plotting how to get his parents to let Breyana do a gap year. They’re good at keeping up on Skype, but he misses his sisters more than he’d admit to their faces, with Breyana back home and Alex doing her masters out west.  

The three of them manage to talk for maybe ten more minutes, the conversation meandering towards bitching about professors, before Auston’s door gets flung open with a very loud, very _Mitch,_ “Honey, I’m home.”

Auston tries really hard to look exasperated, doesn’t quite pull it off. “Say hi to Marns, guys,” he says, turning his laptop around so the girls can see Mitch as he drops his backpack. It takes Mitch a second to register who he’s looking at, but as soon as he does, he beams.

“Hey, my favourite sisters in l–”

Auston coughs, loud and a little desperate, because maybe the only thing worse than his parents finding out he got fake-married to scam the government is his sisters finding out. They’d _never_ let him hear the end of it.

“Sisters... of my best buddy,” Mitch finishes, clumsy, then winces and mouths ‘sorry’ as Auston turns his computer back around.

“Good day?” Auston asks, and Mitch shrugs, tugging off his sweater.

“Usual. I got to pet a dog, though!”

Breyana pipes up, “Mitch, come make fun of Auston with us,”

“Gladly,” Mitch says, flopping onto the bed next to Auston and scooting closer so they can both be in the frame. “Are we giving him shit for embarrassing childhood memories, or did he tell you about how he walked straight into a glass door last Friday?”

Alex and Breyana look downright gleeful at that, while Auston just groans.

“You’re the worst,” he says, not quite managing to hide a smile. “You’re all the worst, all of you.”

“It’s why you love me,” Mitch says, cheery, patting Auston’s chest fondly, and the whole thing – Marns cozied up next to him, talking to Auston’s family like they’re his family too – is stupidly domestic enough that Auston gets this weird lump in his throat, only before he can embarrass himself too much, Mitch is getting to his feet, making the mattress creak. “I’m gonna make food, I’m starving. You want anything?”

“I’m good,” Auston says, mostly normal. “I saved you mac and cheese from earlier, it’s in the fridge.”

“And this is why _I_ love _you_ ,” Mitch announces, flashing Auston a huge smile while he heads out the door, like Auston just offered him a million bucks instead of leftover Kraft dinner. Auston could jump a building, probably, with Marns looking at him like that. “Later, Matts’ sisters.”

He gets a chorus of goodbyes, blows a kiss as he heads downstairs. Auston kind of stares fondly at the doorway for a couple of seconds, listening to Mitch jog down the stairs, before he catches himself. His sisters are too busy teasing him to notice.

“You guys are so married, ugh,” Alex says, which is just–

Auston can’t help but laugh at that, rubbing at the back of his neck, only a little awkward. “You have no idea.”

* * *

“Okay,” Mitch says, kicking at a pinecone and sending it skittering down the path ahead of him. “Okay, Ryan Gosling or Ryan Reynolds?”

“Gosling,” Auston decides, without really thinking about it. “Easy one. Also, stop picking only Canadians.” Auston didn’t even know this many Canadian actors existed, but they apparently do, because they’ve been playing this game the whole bus ride home from the grocery store, and most of the walk and Marns still hasn’t run out.  

“Not my fault we’re the hottest,” Mitch says, and adjusts his grip on the grocery bags so he can elbow Auston’s side. “Do me, do me.”

Auston thinks about it, shoving his free hand in his jacket pocket. “Alright, uh – Dany from Game of Thrones or – what’s her name, from Star Wars – Rey.”

“Oh no,” Mitch says, and he looks genuinely troubled by the decision. “They could both kick my ass.”

“That is true,” Auston says, mostly neutral. They catch up to the pinecone Marns kicked, and Auston gets to it first, keeps it up a couple of times before kicking it towards the stop sign by their place.

“Okay, one, you’re an asshole,” Mitch says, swinging to try and whack Auston with his grocery bags, even though he’s carrying the eggs, which Auston _knew_ was a bad idea. “Two, ‘hot girl who could kill me’ is, like. Arguably ninety percent of my type.”

“Wow,” Auston says. He does a worse job at sounding neutral, this time, but Marns doesn’t notice, just keeps rambling about dragons versus lightsabres, like either of those things has anything to do with what celebrity he’d bang.

Auston is trying. He’s trying so, so hard to be normal, because none of this is Mitch’s fault. He didn’t try to make Auston fall for him, and he thinks they’re still the same as they’ve always been, best friends who just happen to be married and live together. And that – that’s not even the bad part, because they _are_ best friends, and having Mitch around all the time is basically Auston’s idea of heaven, or it would be if he didn’t always have to be holding himself back, wondering if he’s being too obvious.

He’s getting pretty good at it. The holding himself back thing. Can almost convince himself that shit’s normal, sometimes, kicking pinecones and choosing between celebrities, except then Mitch’ll do something like talk about what kind of girl he likes and it’s like a punch to the gut, all the air out of Auston’s lungs. It hurts, and that’s not fair of him, but it does anyways.

“Alright, husband,” Mitch says, clapping his hands once, all teacher-like. Auston didn’t even hear him make his choice. “Final jeopardy: Obama or Trudeau? Like, the younger Trudeau.”

“I assumed,” Auston says, and tries to perk up, ‘cause Mitch isn’t doing anything wrong, and he’ll pick up on it if Auston’s down. “Gotta be Obama, doesn’t it?”

“Bro, same!” Mitch says, holding out his hand for a high-five and laughing like the conversation is the most hilarious thing he’s ever experienced.

Auston returns his high five with a smile, doesn’t feel anything but relief when they finally get to the driveway. He trails Mitch up the creaky steps, checks the mailbox while Mitch searches for his keys and unlocks the door.

Mitch peers over at him. “Anything?”

Auston shuffles through the mail. It’s flyers, mostly, and a coupon for Pizza Pizza, and–

“Yeah,” he says, because there’s a big, fancy-looking cream-coloured envelope that says ‘Government of Canada’ on the back. “I mean – I think so.” He holds out the envelope to Mitch as they head inside, and Mitch takes one look at it and drops his bags.

“Dude, the eggs,” Auston says, pained, but Mitch has already snatched the envelope, excitedly heading for the kitchen and leaving Auston to pick up the bags. No leaking egg whites, so that’s a plus, at least.

“I can’t believe it’s here,” Marns is saying when Auston follows him in, setting the bags down on the counter. Mitch is already ripping the envelope open, impatient. “I feel like we were waiting forever, don’t you?”

“Um,” Auston says, and – it’s stupid, a totally innocuous question, but his mind goes blank, because yeah, there was the mandatory waiting period, but he doesn’t want to, like, imply that he’s been waiting to marry Mitch forever, ‘cause he hasn’t. The pining thing is a new development.

Fortunately for Auston, Mitch doesn’t seem to need an answer, pulling out a letter from the envelope and skimming it, reading out loud, “On behalf of the office of blah blah... congratulates Misters Auston Matthews and Mitchell Marner on their... blah blah, words, where’s the certificate?” He tosses the letter back onto the counter and goes back to fishing in the envelope to pull out the actual marriage certificate. Auston leans over Mitch’s shoulder so he can see.

The certificate has this weird printed border, signatures from people that Auston’s never heard of. A big, official-looking stamp, and a coat of arms like a reminder just in case they happened to forget they’re technically committing a felony.

While Auston watches, Marns reaches out, runs his fingers over the raised edges of the stamp, gentle. Auston’s heart flutters.

“Wow,” Mitch says, kind of soft, like he’s impressed. “Think this is one for the scrapbook?”

“Funny,” Auston says, except it’s not, really. It’s them, together and official and written on embossed paper. As far as the government’s concerned, they’re in love. Canadian government, which maybe doesn’t count as much, but – still.

“Stuck with me forever, now,” Mitch says, and that doesn’t quite get around to being funny, either. Auston doesn’t get a chance to dwell on it, because Mitch grins up at him, maybe a little deliberate, and says, “Can I use your scanner to upload this? Finally complete our application?”

“What’s mine is yours, I guess,” Auston says, dry, and Mitch offers him a fist bump before grabbing the certificate and an apple from the nearest grocery bag and jogging up the stairs.

The ‘stuck with me forever’ thing – Auston maybe dwells on it, just a little.

* * *

Something Auston figures out, two months in: it helps if he pretends Marns is just his roommate. Like, just straight up does not think about anything involving marriage or rings or the certificate that’s on the wall in the place of honour next to Mitch’s godawful Bon Jovi poster; doesn’t even let himself think about Mitch without clumping him in with Zach or Brownie or even Willy.

It works, sort of.

Auston comes home from the gym around 5, and when he walks into the kitchen, Mitch is standing at the counter, hunched over his laptop.

“Yo,” Auston says.

“Hey,” Mitch says, eyes not moving from his computer screen. “I’m gonna GrubHub, want anything?”

“Where’re you ordering from?” Auston asks, leaning on the counter next to Mitch, casual.

Mitch looks up at Auston, but his eyes land on Auston’s chest, and he furrows his brow a little. Answers a question with a question. “What shirt is that?”

Auston looks down at the white t-shirt in question, tugging at it a little self-consciously. “I dunno,” he says. “I needed something to wear to the gym, and it was on the floor.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear that,” Mitch says.

Auston shrugs. “I mean, It’s a white t-shirt.”

“Are you sure it’s not mine?” Mitch asks.

“Oh,” Auston says, because he really hadn’t thought about it, but he’s lazy about laundry and tries to avoid light-colored clothing that would stain easily, so it makes sense. “I guess it probably is, yeah.” He walks over to the sink, unscrewing the top of his water bottle, and as he sets it under the tap, he adds, “How’s it feel to be the one whose clothing gets stolen, for once?”

“Well, that shirt’s huge on me, and, like, mad tight on you, so it’s not the best,” Mitch says.

Auston shrugs thankful his face is red enough from working out that Mitch can’t see him blush slightly. “Sorry you’re scrawny,” he says easily.

“Sorry you’re too swole for your own good,” Mitch shoots back.

Auston takes the now-full water bottle out of the sink and turns around, leaning against the counter. “Too swole for my own good,” he repeats. “Wow, Marns, really got me there.”

“Whatever,” Mitch says, and there’s maybe something a little too deliberate about how fast he turns back to his laptop. _One of the boys_ , Auston thinks. “You should take me to the gym with you. Give me tips, or whatever.”

“The trick is lifting more weight, and more often,” Auston says.

“Hm, I don’t feel like doing that,” Mitch says. “Is there any other way?”

“‘fraid not,” Auston says, shaking his head.

“Oh well,” Mitch says, “looks like I’ll just be small forever.”

“It’s probably for the best,” Auston says. “Our room would be way too crowded if you got too big.”

“Eh, we’d clear some space,” Mitch says, turning back to his laptop. “Anyway, dude, I’m getting Thai, did you want?”

“Sure,” Auston says.”Can you add–”  

“Pad See-Ew, with chicken?” Mitch asks. “I gotchu.”

Auston raises his eyebrows, because Mitch knows plenty of Auston’s usual orders, and vice verse, but they’ve only gotten Thai food together a handful of times. Granted, Auston had ordered the same thing every time, but still, Mitch had probably gone out of his way to note it, which, in hindsight, shouldn’t be that much of a surprise, but it still makes Auston have one of those moments where he’s, like, embarrassingly thankful for their friendship. He’s allowed that.

“You know me too well,” Auston says, allowing himself to smile a little bit, because Mitch isn’t looking.

“That’s what makes me a good husband,” Mitch says.

Auston rolls his eyes on instinct, but he can’t help but think that Mitch isn’t wrong. Mitch is thoughtful, and attentive, and he puts a lot of work in for the people he cares about, and honestly, he’s probably going to make a great husband to someone, someday.

That thought makes Auston feel… a lot of things. Mostly a vague sense of nausea, actually, but it’s fleeting enough that Auston’s able to take a breath – imagine any of the guys saying the same thing, weird – and push it out of his head.

“You’re alright. Like, decent, I guess,” Auston says, and if it’s half a beat late, Mitch doesn’t notice.

“Yet you still wear my clothing,” Mitch says, and then he finishes placing the order and turns around, and gestures vaguely at Auston’s chest. “Honestly, this is just rude. Like, we get it, you work out, no need to stretch out my favorite t-shirt to prove it.”

“This is not your favorite t-shirt,” Auston says, rolling his eyes.

“You don’t know that,” Mitch says.

“I know what your favorite t-shirt is, dude,” Auston says. “You’ve got no case here.”

“There’s no way you know that,” Mitch shoots back, smiling, but poised for an argument.

“The Jays shirt that’s so worn you have to hand-wash it says otherwise,” Auston says, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow.

Mitch blinks, but he looks kind of delighted. “Wow, I really thought you were bluffing.”

Auston shrugs, and his instinct is to be embarrassed, but it’s Mitch, so he’s mostly just smug. “Nope.”

“Well,” Mitch says, smiling wide, “guess you know me too well too, then.”  

Auston doesn’t deny it, because they _do_ know each other too well, and that’s probably a big part of why they’re such good–

Roommates. They’re great roommates. Auston gets Mitch, and Mitch gets Auston, and they try and make each other happy, and that, Auston thinks, is more important than anything else.

For roommates.

* * *

“Hey,” Auston says that night, once he’s shut off the lights and is crawling into bed. “Sorry for stretching your shirt.”

“You should keep it,” Mitch yawns, without opening his eyes, and wedges his feet between Auston’s calves like he’s a human space heater, or a husband, or anything in the world except Just A Roommate. “Looks better on you, anyways.”

Something Auston figures out two months and one night in: He’s shit at figuring stuff out.

* * *

Auston’s prof is seventy slides into a presentation on forecasting models when his phone starts buzzing. It’s sitting on top of his bag, so the sound’s muffled, but he still gets a couple of dirty looks from the other people in his row, so he reaches down and dismisses the call, quick.

He barely has time to read _Missed Call From Marns_ before it starts vibrating again, insistent. Someone sitting behind him coughs. Embarrassed, Auston rattles off the fastest text he can – _in class shut up_ – shoves it down deeper into his bag and turns his gaze back to the slideshow, trying to force himself to focus. It works for about thirty seconds before a notification pops up on his laptop: _mitchymarns93 is calling on Skype_.

Shit.

Mitch has called literally eight times by the time Auston gets out of class, and he’s staring at his phone while he jogs down the steps, which means he almost slips on the snow that’s apparently blanketed everything a foot deep sometime in the last two hours – thanks, Canada – which means that by the time he calls Marns back he’s not in the greatest of moods.

Mitch picks up on the first ring. “ _Finally_.”

“Dude, I was in a lecture,” Auston scolds, tugging his coat closer around his chest and joining the lineup waiting for the bus. “The exam’s in, like, a week–”

“Auston,” Mitch interrupts, all exasperated. “You’re such a – go to your account on the school site. The ‘Financial Summary’ thing or whatever.”

It takes Auston a second. “Wait,” he says, slow. “Financial, does this mean–”

“Do it, do it, do it,” Mitch chants, like Auston’s not already typing the address into the browser on his phone.     

He’s wide awake, all of a sudden, two hour policy analysis class be damned, and his hands aren’t shaking but it feels like a close thing, ‘cause this – the whole thing, the wedding and the living together and all of it, comes down to right here.

He’s vaguely aware of how dumb he looks, standing there shivering in the bus stop and trying to connect to the internet from the Tims across the street. Mitch is quiet on the other end of the line, and Auston can feel the energy coming off him like a tangible thing.

The site loads so slow it’s physically painful, and he clicks the wrong link by accident, clumsy with his gloves.

“Matts,” Mitch whines, and Auston shushes him.

“It’s coming,” he says. “What am I even–” He gets halfway through his sentence before the page loads and he inhales, sharp.  

He’s never seen that many zeroes next to his name in his _life_.  

“So?” Mitch demands, tinny over the little speaker.  

And – it’s not like it’s out of nowhere, right, because Auston did all the estimates, the online calculator stuff from that first night they had the idea to get married; calculating how much international students with another full-time student as a spouse could get, minimums and averages and best case scenarios that he didn’t let himself think about.

The number by his name isn’t the best case scenario. It’s not far off, either.

It takes a second. “It worked,” Auston says, stunned. “I can’t believe – it’s the same for you?”

Mitch is already whooping into the phone, as good an answer as any, so loud that Auston has to hold it away from his ear again, and even then he can still hear Marns celebrating like he just won a Stanley Cup.

“It worked!” he’s half-yelling, half-singing, “We’re fucking geniuses, it worked, it worked–”

It’s just now starting to hit Auston, still doesn’t quite feel real. Their stupid plan _worked_. “Holy shit.”

“I know!”

“Marns, holy shit,” Auston says, helpless, and laughs out loud. Everyone else at the bus stop is giving him kind of weird looks, but he can’t help it, ‘cause he’s _so_ relieved, and he’ll be able to make rent and a decent chunk of his tuition for the rest of the year and more, and his parents won’t have to stress, and this might mean he can stay another year in Toronto, and Marns is laughing right along with him, the best sound in the world.

“I know!” He’s smiling all big, Auston can tell, even over the phone. “Like – Matts. We’re never eating ramen again.”

“Deal,” Auston agrees, kind of delirious. “Like, completely–” He laughs again, kind of at himself this time, looks straight up and shuts his eyes and lets the snowflakes land on his nose. The snow looks prettier, all of a sudden, the night brighter. It’s almost overwhelming. “Shit, I don’t even – this is so huge, Mitchy.”

“I know,” Mitch says, and it’s almost serious, except then he does this huge cackle, this big ugly sound that’d make Auston a complete goner, if he wasn’t already. “I know, man. I’m so fucking happy I married you.” He says it easy and sure of himself and like it’s nothing at all, and all of the breath goes out of Auston, like a punch to the gut, because–

Mitch _means_ it.

It’d be easier if Mitch was just joking, Auston thinks. If this whole thing was just the tax writeoff it was supposed to be and never really was, for either of them. Loving someone who doesn’t love you back has to be easier than loving someone who does; because Marns does, and that’s the worst part of anything.

Mitch sighs, all content, maybe mistaking Auston’s silence for being stunned at the plan working. “Love you, dude.”      

Auston wants to be home in bed with Marns all pressed up close, except he also wants to be as far as possible from him and everyone else until he can get a fucking grip. He doesn’t know why he thought any of this would be a good idea.

“You too,” Auston says, ‘cause he knows Mitch is waiting for it; and he means it, and, yeah, that’s the worst part.

* * *

Auston’s lost track of how long he’s been sitting at the kitchen table on his laptop. Wrong side of too long, probably, because he doesn’t notice Marns come in ‘til he waves a hand in front of Auston’s face.

“Earth to Matthews.”

“Wha–” Auston tenses up, takes a second to realize who it is before swatting Mitch’s hand away. “Ha, ha.”

“Dude, have you been here since I left?” Mitch asks, dumping his stuff on the counter; then, when Auston shrugs, “Matts.”

“I know,” Auston says, turning down his music so he can hear properly. “I’ll take a break soon.”

“Whatcha listening to?” Mitch asks, and leans over Auston’s shoulder to steal one of his headphones and listen in without waiting for an answer. He smiles, slow and approving. “Bon Jovi. Classy.”

“Your fault,” Auston says. “Playing dad rock all the time.”

“Ah, don’t bullshit, you love it,” Mitch says, tossing the headphone at Auston’s head and returning his grin as he gets up. He doesn’t go far, just drags over the closest chair so he can sit right next to Auston, folding his arms on the table and leaning his chin in his hands. He seems content enough to sit there, a little contemplative, so Auston goes back to the short answer he’s been trying to write for the past hour.

“What’s another word for ‘motivated’?” he asks, and Marns looks thoughtful.

“Hm,” he says. “How about ‘Auston Matthews’?”

“Shut up, I’m serious,” Auston says, tired, kicking at the legs of Mitch’s chair.

“So am I,” Mitch retorts, but then he says, “I dunno. Ambitious? Goal-oriented, maybe.” Auston kind of hums. Goal-oriented could work. “How come?”

“Application season,” Auston says, turning his laptop around so Mitch can see the form open on his screen. “Jobs and internships and whatever.”

“Consulting,” Mitch reads off the header, and makes a face. “Pretty soulless, Matts.”

“You’re gonna be supply teaching ‘til you’re eighty,” Auston retorts, easy enough, because they’ve been giving each other shit about their degrees since they met. It’s familiar, and it’s still familiar when Marns flips him off good-naturedly, tucking his feet up under him so his knees are on top of Auston’s.

“Anything good?”

Auston tugs his laptop back and rubs at his eyes, trying to sort out his thoughts. “My corporate law prof’s trying to get me to intern at her firm, but I don’t know if law school’s a thing I’d be into. Plus, like, it’d be cool to earn actual money. Hence the consulting firms.” He sighs, and Mitch squeezes his arm in this weird half-hug, comforting.

“You’ll get whatever you apply for,” Mitch says, and he can maybe tell that Auston’s about to protest, because he goes on, “That’s not, like, me saying that because I’m your friend, that’s the truth. You’re good at this stuff.”

Auston watches Mitch’s hand on his forearm, kind of shrugs. “We’ll see, I guess. My mom’ll be happy if I can get a position back home, but some places have weird things about degree equivalencies–”

“Back home?” Mitch interrupts, and when Auston looks up, he’s staring back, surprised. “Like – Arizona?”

“There’re a couple places, in Scottsdale. And my aunt knows some people at the bank. Just – options, y’know. It’s expensive here.”

Mitch laughs, but not like anything’s really funny. Like Auston’s not making sense. “Right, but you don’t – we got the money. That was the whole point.” His grip is tighter on Auston’s arm, like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it.

“Marns,” Auston says, a little taken aback. “Everything we get is, like. Half as much as I currently owe, plus the rest of this year. It’s not – I’d have to apply for a work permit or something, too.”

“You’re already here,” Mitch says. “I’m – Everything’s here.”

“I’m not _not_ applying to Toronto companies,” Auston says. He can still hear his music coming from his headphones, tinny and quiet. He’s not quite sure when this conversation started feeling like an argument, because it’s not, but it’s also not _not_ , exactly. He’s not sure what it is. “I’m just considering–”

“–options,” Mitch finishes. “Right, I got that.”

“We’re graduating anyways,” Auston says.    

“I know that,” Mitch says, and then he looks down, blinks like he just realized he’s still holding onto Auston and lets go; pushes back his chair and heads over to the fridge, abrupt. “You want a drink?”

“I’m good,” Auston says. It takes him a second. “Are we?”

Mitch takes a swig of orange juice without bothering to get a glass, wipes at his mouth and flashes Auston a smile, easy as anything. “‘Course, dude. If you need someone to edit your resume–”

“I’ll ask Zach,” Auston finishes, and it’s a joke, and Mitch laughs, but it’s not right, something off-kilter in a way that Auston can’t quite pinpoint.

He doesn’t know. It’s nothing, probably.

Shit was easier, before he got feelings.

* * *

It’s not nothing. Auston can’t tell if he’s being weird or Marns is, but it’s definitely one of them, because they get back from winter break and things are – not _weird_ -weird, exactly, but.

Weird.

Like, okay. Auston gets flirting. He’s best friends with Mitch Marner, obviously he gets flirting. It’s not – Mitch has always been clingy, like, physically, and he’s always done shit that maybe straddles the line for normal ‘guys being dudes’ behaviour, but that’s just him. More pronounced around Auston, maybe, but Auston’s also seen him attack-hug his high school friends when they come to visit, and dance, like, decently suggestively with Willy at last year’s drama social, and it’s just Mitch, and he always laughs about it after, and that’s just how shit is, except then it gets _more_.

It shouldn’t even be possible, is the thing. Auston’s not sure what triggered it, if it was the not-fight about applications or something else, but forget straddling the line, Marns is, like, developing real estate on it, running his hands through Auston’s hair when they’re watching Netflix, calling him a million different pet names even in front of the guys, like whatever joke of a filter he had before is shattered into a million little pieces all over the floor.

 _He’s got to know_ , Auston thinks more than once, desperate after lingering touches and Mitch’s hand at the small of his back going up the stairs, because Mitch may be the personification of ‘hashtag no homo’ but he’s also not stupid, and there’s no way he can be doing all this shit with no idea what it seems like, except he _is_ , because the alternative is- Auston’s not allowed to think about the alternative. There _isn’t_ an alternative. Mitch is straight.

But he’s got to know.

Auston’s never been this confused in his life, so totally helpless at the same time. Not like he can even call Mitch on it. What would he even – like, casually sit him down, “Hey, Mitchy, about how your excessive affection is fucking with my pathetic unrequited crush.” Yeah, right.

Auston takes, just. So many cold showers, none of which are remotely helpful and all of which are probably gonna be _killer_ on this month’s hydro bill. It’s after one of those showers, when he’s mostly dried off and opens the door to head back and get dressed, that he bumps right into Mitch in the doorway.

“Sorry, dude,” Mitch says, automatic, hands up by Auston’s side as if to steady him.

“My bad,” Auston says, and his voice comes out sounding mostly normal, which is a pretty impressive feat, he thinks, considering that he’s only wearing a towel and Mitch has got on a pair of boxers and those knit socks he likes and it’s just – Auston’s only human, okay, and it’s early, and neither of those is really a good enough excuse for him to say, a little strained, “Nice, uh. Nice socks.”

Mitch rolls his eyes, fond, like he thinks Auston’s chirping him the way he should be, like bros. “Did you still need–” he nods over Auston’s shoulder towards the bathroom.

“All yours,” Auston says, grateful for the escape, and he moves to head out except Mitch takes a step forward at the same time, and then they’re trying to sidestep each other. It’s one of those awkward feedback loops, both of them trying to get through the doorway at the same time, and it’s almost funny until they both try to edge around each other and end up face to face, squashed together in the doorway.

“Oops,” Mitch says, but he still doesn’t _move_ , and it’s like – Auston was stupid, to think they were standing close, before. He didn’t even know what close _meant_ , before, because now Mitch’s chest is flush against his and his hair is tickling Auston’s jaw, his knees kind of bumping against the hem of Auston’s towel, which suddenly feels about a million times too small. He can feel the heat off of Mitch, can see his chest rising and falling.

Auston’s whole brain is on fire. He thinks he might actually explode, right there outside the bathroom, with the effort it’s taking to keep his eyes up – on Mitch’s face, the mirror behind him, anything except his legs and the way one of them’s all but between Auston’s.

Mitch doesn’t keep his eyes up. Mitch doesn’t even pretend to keep his eyes up, just looks down at Auston kind of wide-eyed, makes this weird aborted gesture with his hand, like he’s going to touch him and decides against it – which is dumb, because of course he wasn’t, Auston knows that, but he also knows what getting checked out feels like, and he’s pretty sure that that’s, like, objectively what Marns just did.  

Mitch laughs, and Auston’s not sure if he’s imagining the way it sounds a little out of breath. He has to be, because Mitch is straight, and straight guys don’t get breathless over other guys, Auston’s pretty sure.

“Hey,” Marns says, and grins up at Auston, wry, “if this was a porn, we’d definitely bang right now.”

“Jesus,” Auston says, and the moment – whatever it was, _if_ it even was, ‘cause Mitch is _straight,_ damnit – is over like it never existed. He squeezes out of the doorway, shoves Mitch out of the way to head back for his room. Who even _says_ something like that, like that’s a normal thing to say? “You’re so–”

“You’re blushing,” Mitch says, kind of bemused. Maybe a little surprised. Auston doesn’t know what he’s thinking.

“I’m not,” Auston says, backing down the hall and only barely avoiding tripping over Brownie’s laundry basket. “Maybe you’re blushing.”

“Pretty sure I’m not,” Mitch says, even though he is, a little, this pink flush like he just got in from the cold. Auston doesn’t know what the fuck he’s supposed to do with that.

“I – Go shower, please.”

“Prude,” Mitch retorts, playful, except then he’s bending over to yank his socks off, already distracted, and Auston takes one look before he turns around and makes a break for it, clutching his towel.

He shuts his door harder than he means to, leans back against it and shuts his eyes, heart pounding. Tries not think about how close he was to doing something really, really stupid.  

“You’re friends,” he says out loud, stern. “He’s your _friend_ .” _And your husband_ , his brain fills in, because it’s clearly trash, because that’s clearly where he’s at, right now.

Auston exhales, slow.

A few more months of being husbands. He can – he has to be okay for a few more months, just ‘til April, then they can graduate and get their divorce and he can go back to pining without running into Mitch half-naked at ass o’clock in the morning. It’ll be easier with some distance, he thinks, even as the thought of being away from Marns for any length of time sits like something bitter in his stomach. He can be Mitch’s best friend like he has to be, can turn shit off when they see each other. Laugh about that time they got married and saved thousands of dollars, friendship for the ages, the whole thing.

He can do this.

Auston just stands there against the door, listens to the noise of the shower and tries to not think. It’s working, sort of, except then it sinks in – he can hear Mitch singing. It’s muffled by the door and the water, the words indistinct, but it’s so _Mitch_ , all of a sudden, that Auston’s breath catches in his throat.

A few more months, he thinks, and he tries to feel anything like relieved, but doesn’t even come close.

* * *

It’s a night like a million other nights, when Auston wakes up to the feeling of cold feet on his legs.

“What?” he says, but he’s mostly asleep, so it comes out as more of a grunt.

“Shit,” he hears Mitch whisper. “I was trying not to wake you up.”

“What’s going on?” Auston asks. He’s still a little disoriented, most of his brain still stuck in a dream that he can’t remember anymore.

“Sorry,” Mitch says. “I was at the library late.”

“Oh,” Auston says, yawning. “You’re cold.”

“Go back to sleep,” Mitch says, and kind of laughs, fond.

“‘kay,” Auston says, and he closes his eyes again, and he thinks he’s gonna fall right back asleep, but then Mitch moves, and he moves again, and Auston’s shared a bed with Mitch enough to know that he’s usually a pretty still sleeper, so Mitch is definitely awake right now.

“Dude,” Auston says, turning to face him.

“Sorry, sorry,” Mitch says, and there’s something in his voice, more serious than he should be. “I can–”

“No, you’re good,” Auston says, mostly giving up on sleep, ‘cause he’s Mitch’s friend before he’s anything else. “Just – everything alright?”

“It’s fine,” Mitch says. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Auston says, half-joking. “What’s up?”

Mitch shrugs off the question, dismissive. “It’s nothing. Just – school, and shit. Seriously.”

“Promise?”

“Yes,” Mitch says, probably rolling his eyes a little bit, but also smiling, like he usually does when Auston worries about him. “I’ll chill on the couch for a bit, get my mind off shit.”

“I mean, if you wanna just, like, stay here, that’s fine,” Auston says.

“No, I’ll keep you up,” Mitch says, but he doesn’t leave, which is how Auston knows he doesn’t really want to.

“I’m already awake,” Auston says, propping himself up on his elbow and turning to face Mitch.

“You don’t have to,” Mitch says.  

“Well, I’d be a shitty husband if I kicked you out of bed for being stressed,” Auston says, and Mitch cracks a smile at that.

“I guess you would be,” Mitch says, and then, after a second, “Actually, I don’t know. Wouldn’t I be the shitty husband for waking you up?”

“Maybe we’re both shitty husbands,” Auston offers, and Mitch kind of grins, but he goes back to looking thoughtful too fast. It’s been like this, off and on since they talked in the kitchen, this weird kind of weight that Auston’s not sure how to get rid of, so he just waits, watches Mitch stare up at the ceiling ‘til he’s ready to talk.

“Did you ever used to think about it?” Mitch asks. “Like. Being married?”

Auston thinks about it. “Not really. I dunno. Did the whole ‘I’m probably gonna end up with a dude’ realization in junior high, but actually getting married – that was, like. Too far to think about.” Mitch doesn’t say anything, just plays with the edge of his pillowcase. He’d have a comment, usually, about the junior high thing. Auston reaches out to nudge at Mitch’s hip, gentle. “I guess you thought about it, if you’re asking?”

“I don’t know,” Mitch says, and he still looks a little off, but not bad-off, Auston decides. Like he needs cheering up.

“Yeah, you did,” Auston grins at Mitch; then, encouraged by the fond scoff he gets back, pokes at Mitch a little harder, playful. “C’mon, Marns. Tell me what your wedding’s gonna look like.”

“I don’t know,” Mitch repeats, except Auston keeps poking at him where he knows Marns is ticklish ‘til he gets a laugh, reluctant. “Matts!”

“Tell me,” Auston says, dragging out the ‘me’ ‘til Mitch is swatting his hands away, laughing for real this time.

“You’re so – I mean, you’d be there, I guess. We’d have fun.”

“I’d be there,” Auston echoes, teasing, and Mitch rolls his eyes, jabs at Auston’s chest and doesn’t manage to hide a smile, not even close.

“Yeah, well. Don’t get cocky, dude. It was a pity invite ‘cause I was your best man.”

“I got married first?” Auston asks, kind of laughing, except – it feels weird, _wrong_ to think of himself saying vows with someone else, in tastefully non-matching suits, Marns standing at his side to hand over the rings and make a dumb speech at the reception. He doesn’t say any of that, just kind of snorts, and says, “Who says you’d be my best man?”

Mitch doesn’t even pretend to believe him, which – fair. “I’m your best everything,” he says, and he probably means it as a joke, but it lands funny, the way that keeps happening recently, and the tension is back like it never left.

Auston wants to break it, make some joke, but all that comes out is, “Probably, yeah.”

It’s too honest for a dumb, half-asleep conversation like this, and he wants to take it back, only then he meets Mitch’s eyes and his breath catches, because there’s something about the way Mitch is looking at him, everything he feels written on his face, like always.

Auston’s frozen, statue-still as Mitch reaches out, tucks a strand of hair behind Auston’s ear and just sort of leaves his hand there, no-quite-cupping Auston’s face. His fingers are still cold, and he’s staring at Auston like he’s looking for something. The moment feels too careful, all of a sudden, strung-thin like they’re teetering on the edge of something Auston can’t see.

“Hey,” Auston says, mouth dry.

“Hey,” Mitch says, quiet, and they’re just looking at each other, bigger than anything.

Mitch doesn’t say anything else, just moves in, so slow something in Auston’s chest aches. They’re so close that Auston goes cross-eyed if he tries to look at Mitch straight on, and Mitch maybe gets that, because he does this tiny little laugh, more an exhale than anything else, even though nothing’s really funny. Their noses are brushing together.

Auston can feel Mitch’s breath on his lips.

“Marns,” Auston says, and he doesn’t know what he’s asking for, if he’s asking for anything, really, but Mitch leans down and fills in the blanks for himself.

Auston kisses him back. There’s probably no universe where he doesn’t kiss Mitch back, even though he knows as he does it that it’s a bad idea, that whatever Mitch thinks this is, it’s not what Auston wants it to be; and he _knows_ that, he does, only–

Only Mitch has still got a hand in Auston’s hair and he’s kissing him like he knows what he’s doing, careful for half a second before tugging him closer. It’s not even – it’s not going anywhere, it’s just the two of them kissing in a bed that’s too small to share, half-tangled in the blankets, and the house dead silent around them, but it’s _Mitch_ , and he’s so close, and they fit together like it’s something they’re supposed to be doing.

Auston can’t think. He can’t – he can’t move, and then Mitch breaks the kiss to catch his breath, and he doesn’t move either, so they’re just sitting there, foreheads pressed together, breathing up against each other. Mitch’s eyes are shut, eyelashes long on his cheek. Auston wants to kiss them. Auston wants to kiss _him_.

“Mitch,” he says instead, and he wishes he could sound firm, but his voice is shaking. “What are you–”

“I don’t know,” Mitch says, and it’s kind of – after everything, it’s kind of the final straw for Auston. Mitch leans in to kiss him again, but this time, Auston leans away.

“You don’t know,” he repeats. “You can’t just – just _do_ this, if you don’t know.”

“But I–” Mitch says, but then he cuts himself off.

“But you wanted to?” Auston asks, and it comes out a little meaner than he means it to, but god, Marns’ hand is still on his neck, and he’s just so fucking tired of this. “You know that you don’t just get whatever you want, right?”

“That’s not how I meant it,” Mitch says.

“Alright, but – you know there are boundaries, right? You can’t just kiss me and expect me to act like that’s just what friends do.”

Mitch does this weird, confused half-laugh. “Since when is that – it’s _us_ , man,” Mitch says, like he’s stating the obvious. “We’re not just normal friends.”

“So what, we’re friends who make out, now?” Auston demands. “And you just get to decide that?”

“It’s fine if you don’t want to, I just–” Mitch says, faltering, and he doesn’t _get it_.

“You’re straight, Mitch,” Auston says. “And I’m not.”

“I know, and that’s never been a problem before,” Mitch says, earnest, but Auston shakes his head, pushes Mitch back so he can swing his legs over the side of the bed and sit like that, with some distance.

“Not for you, maybe.”

There’s a second of silence, where Auston’s staring at his feet and he can feel Marns staring at him, then Mitch asks, “What does that mean?”

It’s more helpless than confused, and Auston realizes that it’s an out. He considers taking it, for a second, but the thing is, even if they move past this, things won’t get better for Auston, and he knows Mitch doesn’t want him to pretend he’s okay, and Auston’s really fucking not okay.

“Mitchy,” Auston says. “Come on. You’re not into guys, but you wear your wedding ring, and wear my clothes, and use, like, pet names–”

“I’m sorry if I take that stuff too far, but it’s not – I don’t actually expect you to be, like, my husband,” Mitch says, but it’s not really convincing. “It’s just a joke.”

“Is it?” Auston asks, looking over his shoulder to meet Mitch’s eyes.

“I mean–” Mitch starts, fumbles a little under Auston’s gaze. “I guess, like, mostly? It’s just – you’re my favorite person, Aus. I love you, y’know?”

Auston flinches when Mitch says _Aus_ , all soft, like they’re bickering over where to get dinner, and this is the part where Auston’s supposed to give in. “But we’re not actually married, Marns,” he says. “We’re not actually anything.”

“We’re best friends,” Mitch says.

“You know what I mean,” Auston says. “Everyone thinks we’re together.”

“I mean, we’re not _not,”_ Mitch says, and Auston can’t help but laugh, this disbelieving, harsh thing, even though nothing’s really funny.

“No, we’re just – we’re not,” he says, kind of hysterical. “We’re not husbands, we’re not boyfriends, we’re not dating.”

“Okay, but we’re still us,” Mitch says. He’s got the sheets bunched up in his hand, tight enough that his knuckles are white.

“Why are you putting up a fight about this?” Auston snaps. “It’s pretty fucking simple, Marns. Just – you’re straight, you don’t date guys, you’re not dating me, right?”

“Fine, sure, d–” Mitch rubs a hand over his face. “Yeah. That’s true.”

“So did you ever think that it’s maybe not fair of you to keep acting like you are?” Auston says, and something hardens in Mitch’s face, like he’s frustrated and showing it for the first time.

“Well, maybe it’s not fair of you to act like you’re okay with shit for months, when you apparently just, like, hated all of it the entire time,” Mitch says, and Auston scoffs.

“You’re so – I didn’t–”

“What?”

“I didn’t hate it,” he says, more forceful than he means to, and Mitch kind of throws his hands up, fed up.

“Well, then, what’s the problem?” Mitch asks.

“ _That’s_ the problem,” Auston says, and his heart is pounding in his chest, but he keeps going anyways. “I didn’t hate it, and that’s – that’s my whole fucking point, alright?”

“So then what are you–”

“You’re not actually my boyfriend, and that just kind of sucks for me, alright?”

The words fall out too loud and sit between them, this second of the worst silence Auston’s ever heard, and he doesn’t know if he’s ever been this scared in his life. He doesn’t want to look at Mitch, can’t look away.

“Oh,” Mitch says, after a million years. “So you–” he gulps.

“Yeah,” Auston says. “That.” He can feel Mitch staring, so he turns to look at the ground again, at the closet door, anywhere but him.

A beat, and then, “For how long?”

Mitch sounds so quiet, and Auston wants to take it back, but he can’t, and he shouldn’t, really.

“Who the fuck knows,” Auston says, and he’s all of a sudden just _tired_ , bone-deep exhausted with this whole thing. “You don’t have to say anything.”

And Mitch doesn’t, just hugs Auston from behind, hard, almost before he’s done his sentence, pressing his nose between Auston’s shoulder blades like he’s trying to hide. Auston lets out a breath, stares down at Marns’ arms locked around him, like they’re going to fix everything. He lifts a hand to squeeze Mitch’s forearm, doesn’t let himself do anything else.

Auston doesn’t know how long they sit like that, holding onto each other, before Mitch speaks, muffled against Auston’s t-shirt. “You know I love you.”

“But,” Auston says, and he has to blink back tears, because even if he saw this coming, there’s always been a part of him that hoped he’d never have to have his heart broken by Mitch.

“But,” Mitch says. He doesn’t let go.

So this is it, then. “Listen,” Auston says, and voice is steadier than he expected it to be, all things considered. “I love you too, separate from – like, whatever, but I just – I need some space, okay?”

“Auston,” Mitch says, his voice cracking a little bit, and Auston has to take a deep breath before he speaks, reaching up to untangle Mitch’s arms from around him, gentle.

“You should probably crash on the couch,” he says.

Mitch takes a few shaky breaths, which means that he’s crying. “Okay,” he says, his voice so small, and then he sits up, gets out of bed, puts on a shirt, and walks out of the room. Neither of them says anything else.

Once he hears the door close, Auston rolls over, filling the space where Mitch had been. It’s still warm, and it still kind of smells like Mitch, so Auston just breathes it in, lets a few tears fall, and tries to tell himself that this was the right choice, even though it feels so fucking wrong, right now.


	3. Chapter 3

Mitch moves out of Auston’s room, and it should feel like a weight off of Auston’s chest, but it doesn’t.

God, it feels like a fucking hole, and every second that he’s not with Mitch feels like a reminder of the whole thing. He wakes up in an empty bed, and it’s fucked up that he’s so used to waking up with Mitch that his bed feels empty, but now it feels like his mattress is too big for just one person. He still checks his clothing to see if it’s his or Mitch’s before putting it on out of habit, and at one point, finds a t-shirt he thinks is Mitch’s before realizing that it’s just one of his that Mitch wears – or, well, wore – a lot.

He considers wearing it, but decides that would be shitty for both of them, so he stuffs it in the back of a drawer and wears a Yotes hoodie instead.

There are a couple days where Mitch crashes on the couch, and the guys don’t say anything about it, but they keep shooting Auston these concerned looks, and Auston knows he’ll have to explain it eventually, but he doesn’t want to, so he mostly just hides out in his room and tries to avoid everyone he lives with.

Then, one day, as he’s leaving for class – walking briskly down the hallway with his head down, like he’s been doing lately – he hears Mitch’s voice say, “Hey.”

Auston freezes, then looks up and sees Mitch in the living room door, unsmiling, his arms crossed.

“Hi,” Auston says, kind of shell shocked.

“I’m gonna stay at Marty’s, for a bit,” Mitch says. “Just – y’know.”

Auston nods, and he feels a lump in his throat. “Okay.”

“It just – it’s what seems fairest,” Mitch says. “Right?”

“Whatever you want,” Auston says, shrugging, and he has to look away from Mitch’s face, because Mitch is so clearly hurt, and he’s trying not to show it, and Auston can’t handle that right now.

“This isn’t about what I want,” Mitch says. “It’s – you need space, right?”

“You’re already giving me space,” Auston says.

Mitch shakes his head. “You haven’t talked to anyone in days. The guys are worried about you.”

“I’m sorry,” Auston says, and he feels so helpless.

“Don’t – that’s not – this isn’t about you apologizing,” Mitch says. “You have friends, and they want to help you. _We_ want to help you, and I just – I want to make things better.”

“So what, you’re moving out so that the guys don’t have to pick sides?” Auston asks.  

“That’s not – this isn’t that kind of thing, and even if it was, they’d pick you,” Mitch says. “I would, too.”

“Marns,” Auston says, his voice almost cracking, and he feels like garbage, because he knows Mitch is telling the truth.  

“I’m only telling you this so you don’t think that I’m leaving because I’m mad, or something, alright?” Mitch says, and he takes a step closer to Auston, and Auston takes a step back, because he can barely handle this as it is. He sees hurt flash across Mitch’s face, and then he just stops looking.

“Alright,” Auston says, kind of numb.

There’s a beat where neither of them says anything, and Auston almost meets Mitch’s eyes, but then he’d probably do something dumb like cry, or ask Mitch to stay, but he knows that Mitch is probably right.

“I should head to class,” Auston says.

“Okay,” Mitch says. “I’ll probably be gone when you’re back, so.”

“Oh,” Auston says.

“Yeah,” Mitch says. “Um, goodbye, I guess.”

“Bye,” Auston says, and he almost adds, _catch you later,_ except he won’t, and that feels awful.

He’s frozen in place for a second, but then Mitch kind of turns around, so Auston does too, putting in his headphones and turning the volume all the way up as he walks out the door, hoping that if his music is loud enough, he won’t be able to think.

It doesn’t fully work, but he manages to not cry at all on the walk to campus so he considers it a mild success.

* * *

The biggest thing that changes, once Mitch moves out, is that Auston starts moping in the living room, too.

He still expects to trip over Mitch’s backpack or find random empty packets of Skittles in his bedsheets, and at first, Auston thinks he’s just adjusting, but after a week and a half, he starts to feel like he’s exceeded the normal mourning period for heartbreak.

The guys don’t ask questions, but they keep very conspicuously inviting him to things, which is probably considerate, but also sort of just drives home how pathetic Auston must be, and he’s still too sad to really leave the house, so he mostly just wallows on the couch, occasionally watching a movie with Zach or helping Willy run lines as he tries and fails not to think about Mitch.

He’s lying on the couch one Sunday, reading emails on his phone and trying to work up the energy to open his laptop, when Brownie walks in and nudges Auston’s foot with his knee.

“We’re out of hash browns,” he says.

“Sorry,” Auston says, shrugging.

“I need greasy food,” Brownie says. “Let’s go get brunch.”

“Eh,” Auston says. “I’ll pass.”

“Come on,” Brownie says. “There’s no good food here.”

“We have cereal,” Auston says.

“Alright, but I also wanna get brunch with you,” Brownie says, patient.

“I’m not hungry,” Auston says.

“You weren’t hungry when we wanted to go to Chipotle the other day, either,” Brownie says. “Or when we went out for pizza on Friday.”

“I mean, sorry?” Auston says, kind of irritated, because he knows he’s being called out, and he probably deserves it, but he doesn’t have to like it.

“Get brunch with me,” Brownie says. “Hyms’ll show up, too, if you want.”

“What, you planned this?” Auston asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Duh,” Brownie says, rolling his eyes. “You’re sad, we’re your friends.”

“So you’re staging an intervention?” Auston asks.

“It’s not an intervention, it’s brunch,” Brownie says. “You’ve gotta talk about this thing with Marns at some point.”

Auston winces at the mention of Mitch’s name, and Brownie gives him a look like his point has been proven.

“Fine,” Auston sighs, getting up off the couch, and Brownie claps a hand on his shoulder as they make their way to his car.

They head to the diner by the park, which is Auston’s favorite place, usually, except he remembers Mitch bringing it up the night they came up with the whole marriage plan, which makes him feel vaguely queasy.

Zach already has a table when they walk in, and there are three cups of coffee on the table, and as Brownie slides into the seat across from Zach, Auston does a quick scan of the restaurant for Mitch, like he does every time he passes somewhere they both like. It occurs to him that Zach probably would’ve given them a heads up if Mitch was here, and he wonders if that’s why Zach got here early. The thought pisses him off a little less than he expects it to.

“Good morning,” Zach says, polite as always.

“Hey,” Auston says, sitting next to Brownie. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“No worries,” Zach waves them off. “They’ve got fresh apple pie, apparently.”

“Is apple pie a brunch food?” Brownie asks, curious. It’s kind of an invitation – they start debating what counts as brunch, the kind of dumb conversation they have all the time. Auston gets that they’re trying to lighten the mood, that they want him to join in, but he just stares at the menu without really absorbing any of it, distracted.

He and Mitch usually sit at the other side of the restaurant, at the table by the window. They don’t even look at the menu, because they just order two of the all day breakfasts and Mitch gets Auston’s pancakes and Auston gets Mitch’s home fries and it just _works_.

“Matty,” Brownie says, and Auston blinks, and that’s when he realizes the waitress is standing there, waiting to take his order.

“Sorry,” Auston says, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

He can see Zach and Connor looking concerned, so he just asks for the first thing he sees on the menu and stares down at the table while the other two place their orders.

“So,” Zach says, once the waitress is gone, “You’ve been… off, lately.”

It’s the voice he uses at house meetings when he’s about to bring up the fact that they’ve all been mutually ignoring a pile of dirty dishes for three weeks, and Auston figures the real feelings-talk is starting.

“I have,” Auston admits, ducking his head.

“Because of Mitch,” Brownie adds, and Auston nods.

“I mean, I know we haven’t – we’ve been trying to let you have some space,” Zach says. “To process.”

“I mean, it’s… processed, I guess,” Auston says. “It just kinda sucks.” He shrugs. “I dunno, there’s not much more to it.”

Brownie and Zach exchange a look, and then Brownie says, with a cautious voice, “I mean, we don’t actually know what happened? You don’t have to tell us, but – y’know. If you want to, you can.”

“What has he told you?” Auston asks. He pours some milk into his coffee, more for something to do with his hands than anything else.

“Nothing, really,” Zach says.

Auston’s head shoots up. “You’re still talking to him, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zach says, a little taken aback.

“Good,” Auston says. “It’s just – we’re not fighting, or anything. I still–” he cuts himself off, because there’s a lot of ways he could finish that, and he doesn’t want to think about most of them. “I worry about him,” is what he finally settles on.

“He’s worried too,” Brownie says.

“Of course he is,” Auston says, and he almost smiles, despite himself, as he stirs his coffee and avoids their eyes. “He’s a good friend.”

“I mean, that’s true, but–” Brownie says, frowning. “I don’t think he’s just worried about you because he’s, like, a nice guy.”

“You guys are… close,” Zach says. “And you’re not talking to each other, but you’re both messed up over it.”

“It’s my fault,” Auston says. “I mean, he didn’t just – he moved out because I told him I needed some distance.”

“So you… broke up with him?” Brownie asks.

Auston shakes his head, and his stomach does that same turning thing it always does when people talk about him and Mitch like that, except this time it’s more clearly heartbreak. “We weren’t dating. We’ve never – he’s _straight_.”

There’s a beat, and then Brownie asks, “Not to be rude, but. Are you… sure, bud?”

Auston nods, and he kind of wants to laugh, but he also kind of wants to cry. “Very sure.”

“And that has something to do with why you’re both so messed up over this?” Zach asks.  

“Something like that,” Auston says. He wraps both his hands around the mug, suddenly very cold.

There’s a second of silence, and Auston assumes they’re expecting him to say more, but he doesn’t, so Brownie speaks next.

“I don’t know if this helps,” Brownie says, slow, “but he was sending us mixed signals about how he feels about you, so I’m guessing it was even worse for you.”  

Auston laughs a little at that. “He… he’s affectionate. That’s just – it’s who he is, and I don’t think he was doing it on purpose, and I probably should’ve told him to stop earlier.”

“But things went too far?” Zach asks.

“They went, like, way past too far,” Auston says. “He’s… too important to me, and I just kind of have to move on, y’know? That’s all.”

“Alright,” Brownie says, and he still looks thoughtful, but he’s always known when to stop pushing things, and he does now. Auston doesn’t deserve his friends, probably. “Well, thanks for telling us, I guess.”

“Thanks for making me,” Auston says truthfully. “This was probably a good idea.”

“I have those, sometimes,” Brownie says.

Auston smirks, and then the waiter comes with their food, and the conversation gets mostly steered towards complaining about Zachy’s thesis advisor. It’s a little intentional, maybe, but Auston listens, tries to participate.

“Hey,” he says, after a while, the thought just occurring to him. “Where’s Will? He’s usually, like. Involved.”

Brownie kind of smirks through a mouthful of egg – gross – while Zach rolls his eyes, more fond than exasperated, but not by a lot. “We were discussing how to help you and he literally wanted to lock you and Marns in a room ‘til you made up.”

“Oh jeez,” Auston says. “Uh, thank you, for not letting him do that.”

“Gotcha, buddy,” Zach says. “Fair warning, though, he’s probably going to snuggle you for, like, an hour and a half when he gets home.”  

“Gross,” Auston says, but he manages a real smile for the first time in days, and he maybe still can’t quite look at the table by the window, but – it’s something.

* * *

Auston’s skyping his sisters a couple nights later when he hears, outside his window, “Shit,” and then a thud.

He doesn’t, like, immediately have a heart attack, which is a positive, but he also jumps, enough that Alex and Breyana notice.

“Woah,” Alex laughs, midway through telling them about her boss’ weird new rules about the photocopier. “You good?”  

And Auston doesn’t know, is the problem. He was actually having fun catching up with his sisters, and he didn’t even look at Mitch’s Instagram once today, and he got an email from a firm in Mississauga asking him to come for an interview, but–

Only one person uses his window.

“Yeah,” he says, heart suddenly racing. “Sorry, there’s just someone at the window, I’ll call later, okay?”

“Did he say ‘at the _window_ ’–” Breyana starts, and Auston doesn’t hear the rest because he shuts his laptop and scrambles to his feet, crosses the room and yanks open the window and isn’t even really surprised when he sees Mitch sitting next to their tree, looking kind of stunned. There’s only a light dusting of snow on the ground. Nearly as much on Mitch’s jeans.

He’s _here_.

“Marns?” Auston asks, too loud in the quiet yard, and Mitch looks up, a little sheepish.  

“Sorry,” he says. “I fell.”

“I mean,” Auston says, awkward. “I figured, yeah.” He watches Mitch get to his feet, brushing himself off. His hat’s all wonky on his head, and he yanks it off, runs a hand through his hair and stares at the tree like it personally offended him. Auston’s heart is doing something complicated because, okay, he knows logically that the odds of Mitch changing in the two weeks since they saw each other were slim to none, but it’s still – he’s down there, and his hair is still a mess, and he’s the same, just _Mitch_.

Auston’s really, really missed him.

“Are you okay?” he asks, awkward, and Mitch waves him off.

“I’m fine,” Mitch says, glancing up at the window, not long enough to really make eye contact. “Just – go back inside, I’m trying to do a gesture.”

“A gesture,” Auston repeats, to make sure he heard that one right.

“Yeah,” Mitch says.

“Right,” Auston says, after a second, and then Mitch is heaving himself up onto one of the lower branches, and he seems preoccupied with that, which is understandable, so Auston ducks back into his room and pinches himself to check if he’s dreaming. He’s not, apparently, so he leans back out and says, “You could use the door, if you want.”

“‘s fine,” Mitch grunts, dangling from the next branch up. A little icicle falls off, smashes on the ground. “Gesture, remember?” His left hand kind of slips, and Auston’s stomach drops – he really, really doesn’t want to have to ask Brownie to drive Mitch to the hospital because he fell out of the tree, they’ll never hear the end of it – but he holds tight and manages to plant himself on a sturdy-ish branch, right next to the tree trunk, almost on a level with Auston’s window..

Mitch exhales, heavy. “So,” he says, a little out of breath, “turns out climbing a frozen tree is harder than it looks.”

Auston grins, mostly in spite of himself. Mitch meets his eye for the smallest of seconds, and his face does something complicated, this uncertain almost-smile, before he drops Auston’s gaze and stares at the ground, holding onto the tree trunk like it’s a lifeline.

He doesn’t move to come inside, or even to come any closer. It’s because he’s _nervous_ , Auston realizes, and that’s strange enough to catch him off guard, this weird mix of endearing and just, like, completely out there. Mitch doesn’t get nervous about anything, usually, but he is about this, and he’s outside Auston’s room at one in the morning, and Auston is just so, so sick of missing him.

“Okay,” Auston says, mostly to himself, and then, before he can second-guess it, opens the window and crawls out onto the closest branch. His immediate reaction is mostly to want to go back inside, because the tree is snowy and slippery and, yeah, a tree as opposed to something sensible like the ground, and Auston is not a fan of heights in general; but he takes a breath, braces himself and makes his way towards Mitch, slow.  

Mitch is just staring, kind of incredulous, while Auston gets within a couple feet and stops, letting his feet dangle down. He looks at Mitch and Mitch looks away really fast. His cheeks are pink, maybe because of the cold.

“You’re gonna break the branch,” Mitch says, and he’s trying to joke, but he’s still not looking at Auston, firmly on his side of the branch.

There’s a couple of minutes of just sitting there, kind of steeling themselves, neither saying anything. It’s uncertain, this fragile kind of quiet that doesn’t really happen, in the city.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Auston says, finally, at the same time that Mitch blurts, “I was looking at teachers colleges in Arizona.”

Auston blinks, because he’s not sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that.

Mitch is staring straight ahead, this look on his face that Auston can’t read. “I didn’t even think about it,” Mitch says. “I just did it.”  

“Arizona has some good schools,” Auston says, calmer than he feels. There’re a lot of ways he could take that and very few that don’t end with him getting hopeful about nothing; only Mitch is shaking his head almost before Auston’s done talking.

“It’s not Arizona,” he says, still not meeting Auston’s eyes. “It’s – you said you might be going back, so I was looking at schools there without even thinking about it, and I kissed you without thinking about it, except then I _did_ think about it, and it was like–” he breaks off, abrupt, then kind of exhales, a little wistful. “It could be anywhere, literally anywhere, Matts, and I’d be there, like that,” he snaps his fingers, “if that’s where you were gonna be.”

“Mitch,” Auston says.

“Wait,” Mitch says. He’s talking fast, now, like he can’t stop now that he’s started. “Wait, just let me – so you’re my best friend, right? Only, I’d go to the fucking moon for you, man, and I also had a really good time making out with you and doing all the husbands shit, which is – I wouldn’t do that with my other guy friends. I wouldn’t do that with anyone. So if that’s something you’d like to try? Like, for real? I would be down.”

It takes Auston a second. “Are you – you’re proposing to me?”

“No,” Mitch says, too fast, but then he kind of shrugs, helpless. “I don’t know. I’m something.”

And it’s – Auston’s not sure if Mitch is saying what he thinks he’s saying, ‘cause he’s not even sure _Mitch_ knows what he’s saying, entirely, and that’s maybe the only reason that Auston manages to respond at all, because he can’t do not knowing anymore, not about this.

“You don’t like guys, Mitch,” he says, and tries not to make it sound like a question.

“I haven’t, in the past, yeah,” Mitch says.

“You can’t – I know this sucks right now, but you can’t make yourself want something.” Auston’s prepared for Mitch to get defensive, but Mitch just nods.  

“And I’ve thought about that,” Mitch says. “I thought about this, like, a lot. Like, I probably thought more about this than I did about – about marrying you, or moving in, or like, anything, ever, in my life. I almost did this earlier, like, that night, or the next day, but I thought I just missed you.”

“How do you know you don’t?” Auston asks.

“I mean, I guess I can’t, like, _know-_ know,” Mitch says. “But I kept waiting for it to stop feeling like we were missing out on something, and it just – it didn’t. It hasn’t.”

“So what are you saying?” Auston doesn’t know if he’s ever been this scared when Mitch has sounded this sure.

“That I want to kiss you,” Mitch says. “And hang out with you all the time, and maybe that’s just because I miss you, or maybe it’s because I’ve always kind of wanted to be your boyfriend and just, like, didn’t know it, but it’s – it’s not nothing.”

“But it’s–” Auston’s voice trails off.

“Aus,” Mitch says, “look at me.”

Auston does, and he’s kind of taken aback by Mitch’s face, because it’s – it’s not pleading, or anything, just open, honest, sincere. Mitch isn’t pushing for this, Auston realizes, he’s just – just offering, sharing his thoughts, and letting Auston choose.

They’ll be okay, Auston realizes, even if he says no. Mitch would understand it, even, and then they’d figure something else out, because no matter how shitty things have been lately, it’s still them, and they’ll always find a way to fit together.

“You know you don’t have to do this,” Auston says, looking back at his hands.

“I know,” Mitch says. “I want to.”

Auston’s already had his heart broken by Mitch once, and they’re still sitting here having this conversation.

“This could fuck shit up, with us,” Auston says.

“Things are already kind of fucked up,” Mitch points out, and then, after a beat he adds, “I think it could be really good.”

Auston can’t tell which option is smarter, and he doesn’t even know how much there is to lose, at this point, and maybe he should keep pushing until he can figure that out, but the fact is, Mitch thinks they could be good together, and Auston’s pretty sure he’s right, and that seems like it matters more than the rest of it.  

“Yeah,” Auston says. “Yeah, it could be.”

There’s a moment where neither of them says anything, and then, Mitch kicks Auston’s foot with his own. “What’re you thinking?”

“I’m not saying no,” Auston says. “I just – what did you have in mind?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, what did you want to try?”

“Well, I guess, dating,” Mitch says. “I dunno, whatever that means.”

“I haven’t been out on a date in a while,” Auston says.

“Me neither,” Mitch says. “I was too busy hanging out with you.”

Auston cracks a smile at that. “Same here.”

“We could go out to dinner,” Mitch offers. “Somewhere nice, with the boatloads of cash we saved.”

“That money was for tuition, Marns,” Auston says, rolling his eyes, but he’s still smiling, a little.

“Well, I’m asking you out, so I’d be the one to pay, right?” Mitch says. “I can spend my money on you, if I want. Then I’d probably walk you home, and, like, kiss you goodbye at the door, like a gentleman.”

“We live in the same house,” Auston says.

“I know,” Mitch says. “I’d come in through the window, later. Y’know, for the aesthetic.”

Auston laughs at that, and it’s small, but it’s the most genuine it’s been in a while. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious,” Mitch says, smiling. “It’d be, like, a Romeo and Juliet thing.”

“That was a balcony,” Auston says.

“Yeah, well, whatever,” Mitch says. “Trees are romantic too.”

Auston blushes at that, and the tone is less giggly, all of a sudden. “They are, huh?”

“I think so,” Mitch says, and Auston can see that his face is red, too.

“Mitch–”

“I get that you might need time,” Mitch says. “And that, like, makes sense, but – I want to kiss you, man.”

“I know,” Auston says.

“No, I mean, like, right now,” Mitch says.

“Oh,” Auston says.

“So?”

“So what?”

“So, I mean – can I kiss you?” Mitch asks, and he looks scared, like he’s worried Auston is going to say no, and, like, Auston realizes that’s a legitimate concern, except that this is Mitch, sitting in their tree, outside their window, asking to kiss him, and Auston doesn’t think saying no to that was ever going to be a possibility.

He also doesn’t know how to say yes, or how to say any words right now, really, so he just kind of nods, and Mitch nods back, but he doesn’t move beyond that, just kind of stares at Auston, like he’s trying to gather the courage to do it.

Auston could laugh at it, honestly, and he kind of wants to, but then Mitch’s eyes flicker down to Auston’s lips, and he starts to lean in, so Auston does too, and then–

They’re kissing.

Mitch is kissing Auston, and Auston is kissing Mitch, and everything about it feels _good,_ and Mitch’s lips are soft and sure. Auston doesn’t know how he’s ever going to stop kissing Mitch, except then Mitch leans in to kiss Auston harder and the branch kind of shakes, and they both kind of startle and pull apart, breathing heavily. Auston can’t tell if it’s because of the kiss, or they almost fell out of a tree, so he figures it’s probably a combination.

“Um,” Mitch says, but it comes out as kind of a gasp. “This is probably not safe.”

“What, sitting in a tree?” Auston asks.

Mitch cracks up at that, for some reason, and Auston thinks he should maybe be offended, but it doesn’t sound mean-spirited, and he’s too dazed and happy from this entire conversation to do anything but smile.

“Sitting in a tree,” Mitch says, once he’s finally able to speak again, and then he puts his hand over his face and does this weird giggly sing-song as he says, “K-I-S-S–”

“Oh my god,” Auston says, and now he’s laughing too, because this might be the most ridiculous thing in the world. “I will push you out of this tree.”

“I’m so sorry,” Mitch says, doubled over.

“You’re definitely not,” Auston says.

“Yeah, I’m not,” Mitch says, shaking his head, barely able to get the words out, he’s laughing too hard.

It takes them a little while to catch their breath, because everything is so much right now, but in that giggly, happy way that things are when Mitch is around. And Auston’s breath is coming in clouds, ‘cause it’s negative a million and the sun’s not even close to coming up, but he’s still reluctant when he says, “We probably should get out of the tree, though.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mitch says, easy enough, then looks at Auston expectantly, and it takes Auston a second to realize that Mitch is asking for an invitation.

“You can come inside. If you want,” Auston says.  

“Yeah?” Mitch asks, and Auston nods.

“Yeah, man.” Everything feels big, now, fragile at the same time. _New_. “We can – we can talk?”

“Talking is good,” Mitch says, eager, and holds onto the tree trunk while Auston crawls through the window, then holds out a hand for Mitch to grab so he can do the same.

“Careful,” he says, unnecessarily, while Mitch ducks past the curtains, brushing off his jeans as he straightens up. The light is on in the room, so Auston can really look at Mitch, now. His hair is a mess, and his cheeks are still flushed, and his hand feels cold now that they’re indoors, and Auston knows this because Mitch hasn’t actually let go of him since they stepped inside, and they’re just kind of standing there, staring at each other.

Auston gulps. “Uh, welcome back,” he says.

“Thanks,” Mitch says.

“So, uh...” Auston says, his voice trailing off, because Mitch is here, in Auston’s bedroom – or, their bedroom – and things are very real, all of a sudden.   

“You wanted to keep talking, right?” Mitch asks, and he hasn’t looked away from Auston since they got inside.

“If you wanted to,” Auston says.

Mitch shrugs, and it’s way too casual, considering how fucking intense his eyes are right now. “I’m pretty sure I’ve said everything I wanted to say.”

“Oh,” Auston says. “I guess I have, too?” And Mitch is so close, close enough that he has to tilt his head up to speak to Auston. Auston swallows, hard.

“Cool,” Mitch says. It sounds like it takes a lot of effort.

“Cool,” Auston agrees, and he said talking, and he meant it, only then Mitch kind of runs his thumb over Auston’s knuckles where they’re still holding hands, and it’s like – fuck it. “I just – I need to kiss you again.”

“Oh my god,” Mitch says, a little like he wants to laugh, except it’s mostly just this feathery breath, all overwhelmed.

“Yeah,” Auston says. “I mean, if that’s–”

He’s cut off by Mitch surging up to kiss him, fast and hot and kind of messy, this time, and Auston doesn’t hesitate before kissing him back, because finally, _finally_ there’s nothing in his way, and he’s wanted this for an embarrassingly long time. Mitch has one hand tangled up in Auston’s hair, and the other is running up and down Auston’s back, and Auston pulls Mitch in even closer, even though they’re literally pressed up against each other, because suddenly, any millimeter of space between them feels like way too much. Mitch guides them to the foot of bed, and they don’t break apart until Auston feels the bedframe against the back of his calves and pulls away. He sits down and grabs Mitch’s hand, pulling him until Mitch is standing between his legs.

Mitch puts his hands on Auston’s shoulders, and Auston looks up at him, sweeping aside a bit of hair that’s fallen in Mitch’s face, just because he can. Mitch’s mouth is red, now, and his breathing is short, and he’s looking at Auston like he _wants._

Auston slides his hands so that they’re resting on Mitch’s hips. “What did you – how far are we taking this?”

“I mean, I don’t – I’ve never done any of this stuff, but I don’t want to stop,” Mitch says.

“So, just, this? For tonight?” Auston says.

Mitch nods, very enthusiastic. “Yeah, more of this, this is good,” he says, and Auston’s about to laugh, except then Mitch is kissing him again, and then he’s climbing onto Auston’s lap, bracketing Auston’s hips with his knees. Auston breaks away from his mouth and starts kissing his neck, and Mitch grips at Auston’s back.

“Shit, Aus,” he says, but it’s this breathy kind of moan that might be the most incredible thing Auston’s ever heard.

“You like that?” Auston asks, his voice low, and he can feel the way Mitch shivers at it, because he wants Auston, and Auston doesn’t know if he’s ever felt a rush like the feeling of Mitch Marner wanting him before.

“I like _you_ ,” Mitch says, automatic and kind of nonsensical, and Auston was so dumb to think this’d be anything but the best idea in the world.

Auston kisses him again, and then Mitch pushes them so that they’re lying on the bed, and Auston belatedly realizes that they’re both still wearing their shoes, and scrambles to kick them off. Mitch does the same as Auston moves back so that he’s fully on the bed, and then Auston props himself up on his elbows, and Mitch crawls forward until he’s on top of him then looks Auston up and down.

“You should–” Mitch says, but instead of finishing his sentence, he pushes the hem of Auston’s t-shirt up, and Auston sits up and lets Mitch pull it off of him. Mitch throws it on the ground and runs his hands over the muscles of Auston’s arms, and just sort of trails his eyes over Auston’s upper body, like he’s trying to commit it to memory.

Auston blushes, wondering if this is too far, and he’s about to tell Mitch that it’s fine if he wants to slow things down, except then, Mitch says, “Wow,” and he sounds kind of awed.

“You good?” Auston asks.

Mitch nods, not looking up from Auston’s chest. “Yeah, god, you’re just – shit.” He shakes his head, but he’s smiling, this small, amazed thing. “You look so good, dude.”  

“Oh,” Auston says dumbly, because he doesn’t know what else to say, and then he works his hands under the hem of Mitch’s sweater. “Is it alright if I–”

“Yeah,” Mitch says, nodding, and then Auston kisses him once before pulling his shirt over his head. Once it’s off, Mitch moves to kiss him again, but Auston breaks it off quickly.

“Gimme a sec,” Auston says, lying back down and running his thumbs along the sides of Mitch’s abs as Mitch straddles his hips. “You got your turn, now it’s mine.”

“What, to admire me?” Mitch says, like it’s a joke.

Auston shrugs. “Yeah,” he says, and then he leans forward and presses a kiss to Mitch’s stomach.

Mitch laughs. “Fuck you, that tickles.”

“Sorry,” Auston says, not meaning it at all, and then he lies back and looks him up and down.

“What are you doing?” Mitch asks.

“I told you, admiring you,” Auston says.

“Come on,” Mitch says, running a hand through his hair as he moves off of Auston, and Auston’s mildly sad about it until Mitch lies down next to him and rests his head on Auston’s chest. His heart feels like it’s going to burst with, just, how big this all is, this warm, cozy thing that’s somehow better than everything he could have imagined.

“What?” Auston says, instead of all that, putting an arm around Mitch’s shoulder. “You’re hot.”

Mitch laughs, and runs his finger over Auston’s stomach. “No, you’re definitely the hot one.”

“What do you know? Weren’t you straight, like, an hour ago?” Auston teases.

“Well, probably not,” Mitch says. “Dude, you’re all, like, huge and muscular and shit. I could just, like, stare at you – Objectively, you’re the hot one.” He shrugs, blushing a little. “Sorry.”

“Okay, well, you’re all–” Auston says, and then he gestures vaguely to indicate Mitch’s entire body, because he’s kind of afraid that if he says anything specific, he’ll end up on a twenty minute rant about Mitch’s shoulders, or something. “Like, you’re definitely hot.”

Mitch’s face lights up. “Wait, are we fighting over who’s hotter? Are we _that_ couple already?”

“I’m not having this argument,” Auston says, smiling, and then he leans down to kiss Mitch.

They make out like that for a second, until Mitch pulls away and says, “Did you just kiss me to shut me up?” but he’s smiling against Auston’s mouth, so Auston has to smile back.

“More or less,” Auston says.

“It’s been, like, fifteen minutes,” Mitch says, rolling onto his back and tugging Auston’s shoulder, and Auston crawls on top of him, just takes him in.

“I’m honestly surprised it took that long,” Auston says, and Mitch makes an indignant face that’s both hilarious and incredibly cute.

“You’re an asshole,” Mitch says, laughing, and then he pulls Auston in for another kiss.

* * *

The next morning, Auston wakes up to a kiss being planted on his jaw, and when he blinks his eyes open, he sees Mitch’s face smiling up at him.

“Morning,” Mitch says, and he looks so happy, and Auston’s half-awake brain still trying to piece things together when Mitch kisses him. Or, rather, Mitch tries to kiss him, but he’s smiling too hard to actually kiss him, and Auston thinks that he might be dreaming, for a second, except then he remembers last night, and then he’s smiling, too, which is impressive, because he’s almost never this happy when he’s barely awake.

“Hey,” Auston says, his mouth very close to Mitch’s.

“How’d you sleep?” Mitch asks, and Auston realizes that Mitch is half on top of him.

“Uh,” Auston says, taking stock of his body as he props himself up onto his elbows. “I think my arm fell asleep.”

“So you regret everything, right?” Mitch says, faux-serious, but he’s smiling too much to really sound sarcastic.

“Definitely,” Auston says, and then he leans in for another kiss, and then he pulls Mitch on top of him, and they make out like that for a few minutes, but Auston’s kind of sweaty and gross, and also hungry, so he eventually pulls back and says, “I should probably shower.”

Mitch wags his eyebrows at that. “Aw, what, without me?” he asks, faux-pouting as he gets off of Auston.

“I don’t think there’s room for two people in that shower unless we remove all of Willy’s crap,” Auston says, climbing out of bed.

Mitch rolls over onto his side and rests his head in his hand, and Auston just takes a second to appreciate the way Mitch looks tangled up in his sheets, because he’s seen this so many times before, but he finally gets to enjoy it, so it feels new, and really, really awesome.

“What?” Mitch says, smiling, and Auston realizes he’s staring.

Auston shrugs. “You look good in my bed,” he says truthfully, and then he leans down and kisses Mitch again, and then Mitch kisses him, and Auston has to force himself to not just crawl back in bed and keep making out with Mitch, reminding himself that they’ll get to kiss again later, which is one of the most exciting realizations he’s ever had.

“I’m actually gonna shower,” Auston says, managing to pull himself away from the bed so he can grab a towel.

“Think of me while you’re in there,” Mitch says, easy, and it’s his usual dumb flirting, but it’s _real_ , and it’s for Auston.

“ _You_ think of me while I’m in there,” Auston retorts, dumb, and then he opens the door.

“Don’t worry, I will,” Mitch says, and Auston blushes, but he also feels kinda smug.

He tries to shower as fast as possible, even though he gets distracted mid-shampoo trying to figure out if it would actually be possible to have a comfortable two-person shower, if they cleared out all the bottles, but he decides to not get too ahead of himself and just rinses his hair. He dries off quickly and makes his way back to the room, but when he gets there, Mitch is gone, which is mildly disappointing, until he sees that there’s a sloppy heart drawn on the mirror that hadn’t been there when he’d left to shower.

Auston stands there for, like, five minutes, grinning like an idiot, and then he takes a picture of it and makes it his wallpaper before getting dressed and wandering down into the kitchen.

Mitch is there, like Auston had expected, but Auston’s not quite prepared to see Mitch wearing his shirt, and his boxers, and one of his baseball caps, for some reason. He’s standing with his back to Auston, but when he hears Auston walk in, he turns around and smiles over his shoulder.

“I’m working on coffee,” Mitch says, and then he presses the button on the machine and turns around to lean against the counter. He’s got this cocky grin on, and Auston realizes he’s posing.

“Good call,” Auston says. He walks over to stand in front of Mitch, and looks him up and down. “Don’t you have your own clothes?”

“I like yours better,” Mitch says, hopping up onto the counter with his legs kind of splayed. He holds out a hand for Auston to take, and Auston lets himself be pulled in.

“Didn’t know you were that into my fashion sense, Marns,” Auston says. He puts one hand on Mitch’s thigh, then uses the other to turn the hat so that he can see Mitch’s face, and Mitch laces his hands behind Auston’s neck.

“You know I can’t resist a man in a Harambe sweater,” Mitch says.

“Wow, not going for a ripped jeans joke?” Auston asks, moving forward until his thighs touch the countertop, sliding his hands to rest on Mitch’s hips. “You’ve changed, man.”

“I’d say my knees are breathing pretty heavy, right about now,” Mitch says, dropping his voice, and Auston knows it’s supposed to be funny, but it’s also very much working for Auston, which is probably kind of lame, but Auston’s pretty sure it’s at least kind of the point, based on the way Mitch is looking at him.

“You’re such a loser,” Auston says, not sounding anything but ridiculously affectionate. “You’re lucky you look good in my clothes.”

“You _love_ how I good I look in your clo–” Mitch starts to retort, but Auston cuts him off with a kiss, which Mitch enthusiastically reciprocates.

It’s almost surreal, honestly, because Auston’s had this exact fantasy, except his fantasy is nothing compared to the real deal, because his fantasy could never account for Mitch having to periodically stop kissing him because he’s smiling too hard, or the noise Mitch makes when Auston leans in and kisses him even harder. He honestly doesn’t think his wildest dreams could prepare him for Mitch taking off his hat and putting it on Auston’s head without even breaking the kiss, and Auston’s about to start running his hands through Mitch’s hair when he hears a voice say, “Matts?”

Auston stops kissing Mitch, then, and turns around to see a very confused William Nylander standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Hey, Will,” Mitch says, leaning around Auston and waving. The tops of his cheeks are kind of pink, but he’s smiling, and when he looks up at Auston, he looks almost bashful.

“Were you two making out just now?” Willy says, squinting.

Auston and Mitch exchange a quick glance before Mitch says, “Uh, maybe.”

“But I thought you guys broke up,” Willy says, rubbing at his eyes.

“We worked it out,” Mitch says, shrugging.

“Also, we weren’t dating,” Auston adds.

“But you’re–” Willy says, then shakes his head. “I can’t keep up with this anymore.”

“It’s not that complicated,” Mitch says. “We weren’t together before, but we are now.”

“But you were hooking up?” Willy asks.

Auston shakes his head. “Strictly platonic.”

“You were _married_ ,” Willy points out.

“Okay, well, not super strictly platonic,” Auston says.

“But we weren’t hooking up. Best friends and fake husbands, that’s it,” Mitch says, and then he grins, crooked. “But now we’re lovers, so.”

Auston shoves Mitch’s knee and rolls his eyes. “We’re not _lovers_.”

“But I already got with your friends,” Mitch says, gesturing in Willy’s direction.

“You guys are the worst, and I hope you’re miserable together,” Willy says, matter-of-fact.

“Will do,” Auston says with a salute, and Mitch flips him off cheerily. As Auston’s trying to decide between coming up with a witty response or just doing something dumb, like ruffling Mitch’s hair, the coffee machine beeps, and Mitch jumps off the countertop and goes over to the cabinet to grab mugs.

“Please tell me you made enough coffee for three,” Willy says.

“I have it on good authority that Matts needs coffee to cope with me,” Mitch says. “So he gets dibs. It’s a full pot, though.”

“You made him a full pot of coffee?” Willy asks, sitting down at the table, and Auston sits across from him.

“I can spare a cup for Willy,” Auston says, as Mitch pours coffee into a mug. It’s Auston’s favorite mug, and he doesn’t know if Mitch chose it intentionally, or if it’s just a coincidence and a sign of good things to come, but Auston feels pleased either way.

“So generous,” Mitch says, setting the mug down in front of Auston, and he presses a kiss to Auston’s cheek.

“Are you two, like, actually this gross? Or are you just doing this to mess with me?” Willy asks.

Auston shrugs, and he takes a sip of coffee as Mitch comes over with the other two mugs, then sits next to Auston, resting his foot on Auston’s ankle.

“Fuck you, we’re adorable,” Mitch says.

“But you’re together,” Willy says. “Like, for real.”

“We’re…” Mitch says, and then he looks at Auston. “Dating?”  

“Yeah,” Auston says, his face turning a little red. “Giving it a shot, at least.”

“Like. Dating each other, right?” Willy asks.

“Yep,” Mitch says.

“So this is just, like, a normal, real relationship?” Willy asks.

“More or less,” Auston says.

“I’m just checking, because I was the witness at your fake wedding,” Willy says, which is fair, probably. “That was fake, right?”

“Yes,” Auston says, rolling his eyes. “We’re getting divorced and everything.”

“Well, probably,” Mitch says, and Auston nearly chokes on his coffee. Willy doesn’t notice, but Mitch does, and gives him a smirk, and Auston kicks him lightly in response.

“So,” Willy says. “You’re just… dating.”

“I mean, yeah,” Auston says, then he looks at Mitch, only to find that Mitch is already looking at him.

“I wouldn’t say, like, _just_ dating,” Mitch says. “It’s – like, it’s still a pretty big deal.” He shrugs, not looking away from Auston.

“A really big deal,” Auston agrees, and gives Mitch a small smile, which Mitch returns.

Auston looks back at Willy, watches his eyes dart back and forth between the two of them, and then Willy shakes his head a little bit, like he’s having an epiphany.

“Wait, this is great,” Willy says.

“There it is,” Mitch says, laughing, and he’s beaming as Willy makes his way around the table, and gives him a huge, long hug.  

“Congratulations,” Willy says, messing up Mitch’s hair. “Matty, come here, you’re part of this too.”       

Auston sighs, long-suffering, but joins the hug on Mitch’s other side, doesn’t even give Willy shit when he pats Auston’s head like a proud parent. Today’s an affectionate kind of day, Auston guesses.

“Wait,” Willy gasps, letting go of Mitch so fast he almost topples out of his seat and Auston has to catch him by the back of his t-shirt so he won’t fall. “The scrapbook, oh my god.”

“Why are you like this,” Auston groans while Marns giggles, but Willy’s already sprinting toward the stairs, hollering over his shoulder,

“I’m getting my camera, don’t move, keep being cute, I’ll be right back.”

“Oh my god,” Auston says, and tugs Mitch closer so he can hide his face in the crook of his neck, knocking his hat a little off-kilter. Mitch is still shaking with laughter against him, and Auston can practically feel how happy he is, like a tangible thing. “What have we done?”  

“Something awesome, I bet,” Mitch says, decisive, and hooks his ankle with Auston’s, and Auston can hear Willy hammering on the doors upstairs, waking the others all excited. They’re going to get chirped so bad, and Auston can’t bring himself to care, can’t stop himself smiling, big and dumb.

“Friendship for the ages,” Auston agrees, and presses a kiss to Marns’ neck, content.

* * *

  **[epilogue]**

Mitch doesn’t know a thing about love.

Like, he’s _in_ love, for sure, but he doesn’t actually know what that really means, considering it took him for-fucking- _ever_ to realize that he even was – or, is, whatever. When he was in high school, he thought there were two kinds of love: there was the love you felt for your family and friends, and the love you felt for girls you had crushes on. Then, he met Auston, and he thought that there was a third kind of love, the sort of nebulous but all-encompassing Mitch-and-Auston love. He figured that kind of love was a combination of the first two, where he could depend on Auston and wanted to keep him in his life forever, but it had this sort of… excited edge to it, like it would only get awesomer.

But now he and Auston are like, actually together – which, honestly, is still as fucking exciting now as it was eight months ago – and Mitch has learned that there are about a billion ways and counting that you can love another person, and he loves Auston in every one of them.  

He’s, like, very aware that when he says it out loud, it sounds cheesy as fuck.

But honestly? Fuck that. He’s in love, he gets to be cheesy, and he especially gets to be cheesy now, when the guy he’s in love with is sleeping next to him, because Auston looks really cute when he sleeps, and Mitch gets to just, like, have that.

“Matts,” Mitch says, digging a finger into Auston’s stomach. “Wake up.”

“No,” Auston grumbles, and then turns over.

Dick.

“I’ll tickle you,” Mitch says. “Matty, if you don’t wake up, I _will_ tickle you.”

“No,” Auston says, which is, unfortunately, probably correct, because Auston has hella reflexes, and neither of them actually wants Mitch to get punched in the face.

“What if I tempted you with sex?” Mitch asks.

“Too much moving,” Auston says.

“Cuddling?” Mitch suggests. “You can be the little spoon.”

Auston doesn’t say anything for a second, and Mitch thinks he might have fallen back asleep, but then Auston just grabs Mitch’s hand and gently tugs at it, so Mitch just smiles and rolls over, wrapping his arms around him and pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.

Auston makes a contented humming noise, and Mitch would bet anything that Auston’s doing that cute, sleepy smile that makes up about 40% of Mitch’s camera roll. He’s kind of tempted to peek over and look at it, but he’s kind of comfy where he is, and figures he’ll have plenty of opportunities to look at Auston smile.

Not that he’d ever get tired of looking at it. It’s a really awesome smile.

“Only five minutes,” Mitch says. “We should get up, I want brunch.”

“Ten minutes,” Auston says.

“Six minutes, plus a minute of making out, and that’s my final offer,” Mitch says.

“Demanding,” Auston says, and Mitch would roll his eyes at how blatantly fond it sounds, except he’s probably, like, a hundred times worse.

Mitch is solidly awake, so he doesn’t close his eyes the way Auston does, just lets them wander, idly admiring how good Auston looks, all wrapped up in his arms and happy. If it were up to Mitch, Auston would always be like this. Not, like, the cuddling part, necessarily, just the happy part, because Auston deserves that.

He rubs a thumb over the silver ring on his right hand, more out of habit than anything else. He hasn’t taken it off in ages, not since he got his shit together and realized he was majorly, totally, butt-crazy in love with his best friend, so he doesn’t really think about it that much, but it is, like, a wedding ring. Like, Auston bought it because they were getting married, and he doesn’t _really_ wear it as a wedding ring, but sometimes he just remembers that they got married, and it worked.

Honestly, if you ask Mitch, it worked _well,_ considering they’re, like, in love now.

Not that – like, Mitch is in love with Auston, and that’s not changing any time soon, but they’re not, like, _married._ Auston’s his boyfriend, and they live together for now, because they’re in the same city, but they’re still planning on getting divorced, no matter how much Zach gets all skeptical when they bring it up.

It’s just… they’ve been busy, with graduation, and finding the new place, and Auston starting his job, and Mitch preparing to start school, and dealing with paperwork and government agencies takes time. Plus, Mitch has more tuition to pay, which means more financial aid, and more benefits if they stay married, and worst-case scenario, Mitch is pretty sure it wouldn’t, like, hurt either of them financially, so it’s not like they have an imminent deadline.

Still, they should at least talk about it, because they’re going to have to get around to it eventually. They said they would at some point this summer, but summer’s almost over, and neither of them has brought it up. Mostly, it’s just not on their minds, which Mitch thinks is reasonable – they’re young and in love, obviously the last thing on their mind is divorce – but it’s on Mitch’s mind right now, so he should probably bring it up over brunch.

It’s not a real divorce, honestly, because Mitch – he might’ve used the marriage thing as a crutch before they were actually together, but he knows they’re not actually husbands yet. They’re barely even adults, and thinking you’re going to spend the rest of your life with your boyfriend of eight months when you’re 22 is just – it’s ridiculous.

Which isn’t to say Mitch doesn’t think it, because he so does, but he’s smart enough to recognize that it’s totally unrealistic.

If they break up – which, again, Mitch can’t envision, but weirder shit has happened – they’d want to be divorced, and if they don’t, then they’ll probably marry each other for real, one day, with a proper kiss, and a big party with their all their friends and family, and Mitch doesn’t want to explain to their parents that they’re putting off their engagement until the divorce goes through.

And like – either way, they’re not _really_ married right now, and Mitch is pretty sure you can’t just put off getting a divorce until it turns into an actual marriage. No one is _that_ good at procrastinating.

So. Mitch will bring it up over brunch, and they can–

His train of thought is interrupted, then, by Auston turning around and asking, “Has it been six minutes yet?”

Mitch smiles, and he can’t even pretend to tease Auston for this. “No, but we can make out anyway.”

“Good,” Auston says, and he smiles back, this crooked, barely-awake thing, then turns so they’re face-to-face, then leans in to kiss Mitch at the same time Mitch leans in to kiss him.

God, they’re so _good_ together. Everything about this is just so right – their bed, in their studio apartment, with their weird collection of cacti lined up on the windowsill, and their scrapbook on the couch, open to the picture of Matts making a hilariously dumb face as he eats pizza out of Mitch’s hand.

It’s a nice morning, and it’s only going to get better, because brunch, and Mitch doesn’t think bringing up the whole divorce thing would ruin it, per se, but it’s just–

He just kind of doesn’t want to, so. That’s that.

Whatever. They have the rest of their lives to get divorced, Mitch figures.

(In the meantime, Mitch can just lie here and enjoy kissing Auston, and enjoy the noise Auston makes when he puts a hand in his hair, and enjoy the way Auston blushes when he smiles against his mouth, and enjoy the way Auston rolls his eyes, all fond and amazing, when he plucks a fallen eyelash off Auston’s cheek.

“Make a wish,” Mitch says.

Auston looks at Mitch for a second, then smiles, shakes his head, and blows the eyelash off Mitch’s finger.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) thank y'all so much for reading this! this story was so fun for us to plan and write, so we hope you had as much fun reading it as we did writing it! if there's anything that you think should be tagged, please let us know (in a comment, or message lottswrites on tumblr) 
> 
> **Bonus Content:**
> 
> [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C_lAgvch2PE) pretty much sums it up
> 
> thanks to Ygal and Rinat for their truly iconic [wedding video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ml8KxofNmb8), which was consulted many times. shoutout in particular to 2:41 because that is precisely what willy, mitch, and auston looked like as willy signed the witness form.
> 
> [here](http://www.captadam.com/sitebuildercontent/sitebuilderfiles/captadamceremonies.pdf) is a transcript of their wedding ceremony
> 
> conversations from the gdoc:  
> -ciara: i feel like mitch in this verse is the kind of dude whos so straight that it loops right around to being gay  
> -lotts: mitch, a -4 on the kinsey scale
> 
> [Mitch's](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDK9QqIzhwk) [Wedding](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jUw4Qh9uFK8) [Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ) (just those three, on repeat)
> 
> A List of Potential Songs that Mitch and Willy Danced to Suggestively that One Time:  
> -Side to Side by Ariana Grande (auston died. genuinely the hottest thing hes ever witnessed)  
> -Partition by Beyonce (a classic. auston had to leave the room and pretend to take a phone call)  
> -Hot In Herre by Nelly (peak canadian culture. good comedic potential)  
> -Fergalicious (mitch and willy have rehearsed this to perfection. ironic yet inexplicably appealing and made auston re-evaluate a lot about himself)
> 
> lastly,  
> 


	4. Podfic

**[Podfic Download Link](http://www.mediafire.com/file/nee1qs66ccj7jam/%5Bhockey+rpf%5D+we+belong+to+you+and+me.mp3) **

Length: 3:41:03 

Size: 202MB

 

Ft. "Beautiful Thing" By Grace VanderWaal 

 


End file.
